Paint the Silence
by hollywar
Summary: No one on God's green, decaying Earth, was taking Beth away from him.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Why don't we forget Coda? Let's go back to Alone and fix this before it even started, shall we?**

 **Paint the Silence**

 **Chapter One**

Daryl watched helplessly as the black car with a white cross took off with his _everything_.

He couldn't have it – wouldn't have it.

The weight of his crossbow was immense as he pointed it at the car. It was a long shot, even he knew, to hit something so low, fast and hard. But he had to try. Tried so hard that he was gaining access to the car by his own two feet and he was on his last bolt.

Had the roads not been covered in random debris and tree limbs, Daryl wasn't so sure that he would've been able to get this close. He needed to make this count; needed to make this count for the blonde trapped in that damned car against her will. He needed to make this count for their family, her father - him.

He needed her.

The last bolt made contact with the rubber of the tire, a deep thunk, and he watched in horror as the car veered; hard. It veered so hard that the person driving must have been immediately killed by the impact of the tree ahead.

The sound the car made, the crushing metal, it was deafening.

Oh God what had he done?

His body was numb as he hauled open every door, finding two sorry ass looking men, but not her. Until he heard a thumping from the trunk and shoved the wrecked guy out of the way to pop the button on the driver's side floor.

Out sprang Beth with tiny white fists wrapped in lengths of rope, wild eyes connecting with his; and what followed next felt like some sort of hijacked movie.

She jumped, her bound arms awkwardly landing around his shoulder to keep herself on him, legs going around his waist. And he couldn't even process the need to push her away at the uncomfortable embrace, because he had done it. For once in his life, he had finished what was started, he had put things to an end before it could really be started. He clutched onto her like the dying men would come back and take her again.

Because no one on God's green, decaying Earth, was taking Beth Greene away from him.

No words were needed as she dismounted after an unbelievably long time, and after he swiftly cut her restraints, the look they shared was enough words for the both of them.

She was clutching her arm, swearing as she started kicking her way to the passenger side door. The dash was crushing against the abdomen of the passenger who was deliriously gazing over at the driver, the man who had a tree branch sticking clean through his windpipe.

And Beth. She fucking smiled.

A delirious smile. A wild smile that he knew held no happiness behind it, because she of all people, didn't like to see others hurt. Didn't fit in, not in this new world, because she was too good. Too good for all this shit.

Her laugh, it was humourless.

"I am strong." she said with conviction, picking the weapons one by one off the injured man who watched helplessly. He had crushed metal surrounding him, his breathing quickly becoming laboured, hands pinned.

The last thing she pulled from the car was a shotgun that just didn't suit her, so she threw it backwards to him without a glance. All he had to do was extend his hand, the rifle falling easily into his outstretched palm. She knew where he would be, always.

He watched on as Beth crouched down, obviously favouring her sore ankle and what now seemed to be her right forearm, looking almost curiously at the man who was clearly still alive and aware, but stuck. Stuck in the same damn car that she had almost been stuck in, going God knows where.

Daryl watched on as Beth cocked her head, began talking.

"It didn't need to be like this." She shook her head at the man who was now captivated by her, his brown eyes shifting back and forth between the two of them.

Of course, until his counterpart reincarnated, coming back to life with dead eyes and really no life at all. The passenger immediately started to fuss, starting to squirm as his partners hands began grabbing at him.

And Beth, God Beth.

She shook her head at him sadly, tears pooling in her eyes. Daryl couldn't move, paralyzed as he watched her continue to grow more and more upset as the passenger struggled. This world didn't deserve someone as pure as her.

"I'm sorry," she said, standing up and away.

The screaming was muffled by the door she shut with a bang, turning towards him once again. He looked her up and down, before turning around and offering his back.

And this time, this time she didn't ask if he was sure.

...

"What do we do now?" Beth asked, breaking the silence since it had happened – since the men in the black car with the white cross tried to snatch her up and take her away to God knows where. He couldn't even think about it – couldn't think of the endless possibilities that could have played out.

So very thankful for how things _did_ turn out.

"Don't know," he answered honestly, because at this time in their survival together, there was no point in trying to hide anything. No point in trying to give her the false sense of security when he couldn't really fathom where they should go or what they should do.

They had agreed that they were going to stay in the funeral home – they had decided that they would make it work. And without word, they had postponed finding other members from the prison, had started to look for what could be now and tried desperately to forget then.

With everything pulled from under their feet, and the nagging feeling that someone would eventually come to find the men in the car, he knew nothing. He just didn't know at all – where to go, what direction to go in. Everywhere they turned there was something almost claiming them. Something or someone trying to rip what little they had left away.

She was still on his back and though she was tiny, she was solid. He hadn't made it as far away from the disaster as he had hoped, but knew that they needed to stop. She was gasping in pain every time he had to adjust her. He knew she was trying to hide it, and he couldn't take it any longer.

He walked away from the road they were travelling, a little ways into the cover of the trees before depositing her softly on the mossy forest floor. He noticed that she immediately clutched her wrist, the one that had gotten noticeably swelled and purple.

He knew her ankle still keened by the way she favourited it, but boy that arm was a mess.

"I-I think it's broken," she stuttered, eyeing him with a flash of worry in her eye. She masked it well, he noticed, but he was worried regardless. "I broke it before."

Daryl nodded, it was her body and he trusted her more than he thought he could ever trust someone. Maybe other than Merle, and even he had been spotty when it came to being there for Daryl. Trust was not something that came easy to him, and it never had. The months on the road had been good for them – they had bonded unexpectedly and he had to push the thought of the 'Oh's' out of his head because he needed to focus.

The darkness that surrounded them wasn't helping, and it was making him feel watched.

The backpacks that they had found were legit, and Daryl only had to think for a minute before he had his knife out and was cutting the back support rods out. They were thin but they were sturdy and it would be a lot safer and cleaner than wrapping her arm around sticks.

He glanced at her and she was watching him, still clutching to her arm that was steadily growing in size. Freezers no longer existed and they were in Georgia. He knew he wasn't about to find ice and he didn't even know where he was going to find anything relatively cold.

Beth's wide eyes watched him, the shade of them hard to see during the dead of night but he was pretty sure that she was starting to realize the headiness of the situation they had hardly escaped. And it wasn't like him at all, but he felt the need to reassure her.

He ripped off a section of an extra flannel that he had in his bag – the arm, actually, so it would not be wasted. And then he crouched in front of her, finally looking at her for more than just a glance. He looked straight into her eyes with his hand extended.

She gingerly passed her arm to him and he quickly got to work wrapping it as best he could. He'd broken bones before without getting them set – hell his old man surely wasn't paying the medical bill for some dumb kid when there was alcohol to be bought and consumed. But this was different – Beth was different.

"Hey," he called as softly as his voice would allow him, grabbing the bobby pin that she pulled out of her hair so he had something to secure the makeshift stint with. "It's gonna be okay."

She looked terrified, and it was gut wrenching to him.

Because he still had it out, and there was another sleeve that he preferred gone anyways, he ripped that off and tied it securely around her neck to keep her arm snug to her chest.

All he wanted to do was go back in time and take back those words – tell her to stay right where she was with him. Maybe those jackasses wouldn't have ran her over – maybe they would've backed off when they saw the likes of him.

He knew first hand that men like that didn't like to play with people their own size.

When everything was taken care of, and his now droopy pack was back on, he stood and looked around himself. They were still too close, and though exhaustion never bothered him before, he felt a sharp pang of regret that their plan to stay in the funeral home didn't pan out.

"C'mon," he coaxed, helping her stand by the pits of her arms when she struggled, noticeably embarrassed. He felt none of that embarrassment though, and knew that she was a tough son of a bitch if she was keeping herself contained over a broken bone. It was enough to make a grown man cry and he was once again amazed at the little blonde spitfire that was her. "Gonna walk until daylight. I wanna get us as far as I can from here."

She nodded, and though it was dark he could see the delirious look of pain wash across her when she moved her arm. He needed to get her somewhere safe, and fast. He needed to go on a run and get something for her – he couldn't stand to see her in pain like this. Something to take the swelling down, at least.

He kneeled and he tried to ignore the pain of guilt that twanged in his gut as she tried to hold back a groan of pain – did she think she needed to act tough for him?

"Okay," Beth breathed, her voice smaller and quieter than it usually was. And even if Daryl knew what it felt like to have her screech in his face, he would have preferred that – he would kill for that right now, rather than to see her in this sort of state. "Let's go."

...

He was true to his word when he said that he was going to walk until daybreak, and he hadn't gone back to the road where it would have been a lot easier to carry her. The terrain was rough and stumpy, and even Beth wondered how he carried on without as much as a falter.

She worried for him, but then her arm would move slightly and the searing pain would take her breath away. White hot pain was something that she wasn't accustomed to, not even something that she had to experience since the world ended.

Admittedly, she had been kind of sheltered before the prison fell, but had to step up immensely since her survival with Daryl. And though she would never admit that to him and let it go to his head, she knew it was thanks to him.

It was all thanks to him that when he deposited her on the ground as softly as he could, she found the strength inside herself to cover the gasp of pain that ricocheted around her skull in white hot pangs. They had been up for around twenty odd hours, and the pain was starting to make her delirious.

"Shit," he cursed as he noted her state, her far away eyes and pained expression. He had walked all night and he didn't feel like they were any further ahead. The deserted road stretched on for as far as he could see and there was nothing in the surrounding woods. No houses, no shacks, no cabins. It was pretty clear that they were in a lapse of communities, miles and miles out from the next according to the signs Daryl had stored away in the back of his head.

She slumped over where she was, and all Daryl could do was string together another line of curses.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: This is the Modayest Monday that I've had in a long time. I busted a whole container of unopened yogurt all over myself (after I was dressed and ready for work), the cat and the kitchen while trying to get breakfast. The cat decided to puke, right before I had to walk out the door. I'm the only one at work today, and I lost half of this chapter to the mystery of technology so I had to rewrite it. Phew. End rant. Hope you enjoy.**

 **Paint the Silence**

 **Chapter Two**

When she woke, she had a moment of panic.

Her whole body was aching – her ankle, her side where the front bumper of the car had collided with her hip, and her arm. Especially her arm, which had been stuck between her body and the car when it had come out of nowhere, without lights or high beams. It had rammed into her, not hard enough to really leave damage but enough to hinder her – enough to give them access to a stunned and keening small woman.

She sat up with a start, breathing hard and taking in her surroundings, immediately regretting the decision because she only had a seconds notice to heft herself sideways before emptying the contents of her stomach. Which wasn't much, because the last meal that she had was the peanut butter and grape jelly at the funeral home.

Breathing deep and desperately trying to catch hold of her rising panic, she looked around with a clearer and less sleep deprived view. And the absence of the one man she was looking for did nothing to deflate her growing anxiety, and she grabbed the hilt of her knife even though she was probably almost useless with her left hand.

She was just about to attempt to stand when a gruff command halted her instantly. "Sit. You ain't good right now."

Beth snapped her eyes up to him, some sort of skinned unidentified animal hanging from his bloody forearm. The sight almost made her retch again, but she bravely held onto what she doubted was anything left of her stomachs contents. He was doing what he knew – and it wouldn't be the first time that Daryl's hunting and tracking skills would keep them alive and fed.

"You can't carry me forever," she tried, though her wobbling voice betrayed her. The pain of the second day was perhaps worse than it had been yesterday, and she could feel herself that her arm was double the size it should be. For the first time since it had happened, Beth realized that maybe she was in graver danger than Daryl was letting on.

Had it been anyone other than him standing in front of her, she would have been terrified that she would get left behind. It would be so easy for him to walk away and slip into the cover of the trees – he blended in so naturally, while she on the other hand did not.

All she was doing was slowing him down.

Daryl watched on from his standing point, carefully noting the emotions playing over her face. He needed her to eat, he needed her to hold on when he tried to put her on his back again, and he needed her to be okay until he got them somewhere to bunker down in for a while. Stay low until she was okay again.

Because to him, there was no other option. And he didn't satisfy her with an answer. "'Bout 24 miles 'til the next town, according to the signs. Just daybreak now, we get something into you and then we move."

She nodded, though her stomach felt like she may never be able to eat again. She was well aware of the fact that you didn't turn down food in this world – you were never really 'full' anymore – not when you didn't know when your next meal would be.

All Beth could do was watch on as he got a small fire going and started to cook the meat over the open flame. It was nothing like what they had been able to do back at the prison with the massive propane ovens, but it was preferred than eating it raw. Her stomach recoiled at just the very thought.

Daryl moved quickly and expertly; he had been doing this for a lot longer than the two years of the world ending, and it was quite noticeable. Every day he surprised her with how well adapted he was to this lifestyle, and had she not been in so much pain, maybe she would have tried to smile at him when he looked at her with concern.

" _I'm just used to it, things being ugly."_

"You let me know if that arm gets numb," he instructed as he was flipping the carcass over to the other side, trying real hard not to keep his eyes glued to hers. They were back to square one, and he had to force himself to forget about everything that _could_ have happened and deal with what they were facing right now. "I'd say you're in the clear, gotta set it though."

Her face paled and he wondered if he knew what he was talking about, but then dismissed the thought of explaining anything to her. She had helped Hershel often, back at the farm and prison, and if she didn't know that she could've severed a nerve by breaking her arm, he wasn't going to be the one to tell her. Best to keep those gruesome thoughts to himself.

Though, he wasn't looking forward to setting her arm.

He'd only had to set one bone of his own, and for that he was thankful because it was hell. Set one or two for Merle, back in their adolescent days, but his brother was a tough bastard and all he needed was the bottle to help him along. His stomach churned at the thought of inflicting any pain on the youngest Greene, and he solemnly wished that he could take it instead of her. He'd take all the pain in the world if it meant keeping her safe and without hurt.

And that was another whole can of worms – just how entangled with Beth Greene he found himself.

He took the possum off the fire, setting it down on a plastic bag he had nipped from somewhere he couldn't recall; places and houses they raided began to blur together a long time ago. Daryl knew that she wouldn't eat much, and it would be enough to fuel him to get where they were going – wherever that was. He had no other plan than finding some sort of shelter and setting a low profile until her arm and ankle healed up properly.

When he stood from his crouched position and stomped out the fire, turning to her, she knew what he was intending to do. And though she could already feel the faintness, she gingerly unwrapped the makeshift stint he created.

The sight of her arm alone made her gasp.

" _C'mon, do it already would you!" Shawn yelled at her, who was swinging beside her on the brand new swing set that Daddy and Oscar had just constructed for them. Maggie had stalked off saying she was too old for swings, but Shawn and her had raced for them._

" _I'm gonna!" She cried back, pumping her legs as hard and as fast as she could. She wanted to get air, she wanted to really show her brother how tough and cool she was now that she was thirteen. She was officially a teen, as Mama had exclaimed yesterday when Beth had decided against a birthday party._

 _And air she got._

 _Beth was just a slight girl, and when she jumped from the swing she hadn't calculated that she would travel so far. For a moment she felt like she was flying, and surely this would impress Shawn and he would take her when he went with his friends, maybe sometime soon. He always had grand stories about his time with the local town kids and Beth was envious._

 _Though, what she wasn't expecting was the landing. Not at all, and when she did land, landing on her stomach with her arm underneath her, it only took a second to feel the excruciation pain._

 _She screamed for her Mama._

Daryl was prodding at her arm as gentle as she had ever witnessed him handle something before; maybe besides the crossbow. She was trying to do as he told her and watch his back, but the lines and the contours of his face was making it hard to move her gaze away from him. They had both been willing to stay together in the funeral home, for however long that would've been had things not been staged.

And what did that mean?

 _Oh._

He noticed her looking, and only caught her eye for a second before clearing his throat. "Think it's a clean break. Hoping it is, anyways. Gotta set it now, and it ain't gonna be nice."

She swallowed, though her throat felt like sand. She tried to convey the image of bravery when she whispered her consent. "Okay."

"Merle broke his arm before," he started, allowing himself to finally look up and take in the sight that was Beth. Her blue eyes were endless and she was biting down so hard on her lip that the skin around her teeth were white – and she was watching him. Watching him so closely that he had to divert his eyes back down to her arm. "Ain't never had the money to go to the doctor, usually had to fix up ourselves."

He knew he had to do this seamlessly and without much movement, though her steady gaze was stalling him. He grabbed the red rag from his back pocket, and hastily wrapped it around her good hand. She was confused for a moment until he stuck that hand in her mouth.

She knew he was just trying to keep them safe, trying to keep this as quiet as it could be. Knew he was telling her this story about his brother because he was trying to distract her.

She knew what he was doing but she was grateful.

"One time he got so high he didn't even remember breaking it. Asshole, never let me look at it for a week." He looked at her, and though she was interested he could tell she was anticipating the twisting he was about to do. "By the time he gave in, his hand was about ready to fall off. Had to go to the doc anyways, boy was he mad."

And at her tiny smile, he twisted and didn't stop until he heard the grating sound he was looking for.

When he was done, there were fresh tears rolling down her cheeks and her eyes were looking far off again and he wondered if she was going to pass out. He needed to find her something for the pain, hell he didn't even have an Advil to give her right now.

He made quick work of getting the makeshift stint back in place, and when there was pressure on her arm again, her eyes cleared. She spit out the rag, letting her good arm loll away as she gasped in deep breaths of air. Her arm was in a constant state of throb, though movement hurt less now than it had before.

She wiped the sweat off her brow with the rag, hesitantly looking back at the man that was kneeling in front of her. The look in his eye was making her feel more pathetic than she knew she probably looked, the pain coursing through her body bringing along heated irritation with it. And she didn't mean to sound rude, didn't mean to sound snappy when she rubbed a hand across her face in frustration. "I'm fine."

He let out a puff of air before standing and curtly moving away from her, throwing a leg of something at her without looking behind him. "Eat."

…

It was awkwardly silent as they slowly started their journey, neither of them speaking since her abrupt moment of aggravation. It had been probably before the funeral home that Beth had felt the need to fill in the silence – it had been about then that they had stopped being awkward as hell and accepted each other as partners of survival.

He had ate in complete silence, never glancing her way while she picked at the meat that she had learned to be possum; one of her favorites, he knew. He'd thrown her a half filled water bottle while he packed up and got ready to leave without so much as a glance towards her, and had her arm not stung in absolute pain, she would have thought they were back to eating mud snakes.

He didn't offer his back to her, and he didn't ask if she was okay before he started off and all that she could do was follow behind. Her ankle was hurting but it was much better than what it had been – or at least the pain in her wrist trumped the pain in her ankle. She was relieved, a bit, when they emerged from the cover of the forest to walk alongside of a long forgotten road – the terrain was much smoother going and easier on her weakened foot.

Beth thought that they had maybe made it two miles when she had had enough. Her voice sounded weak and sad to even her own ears, yet she couldn't find it within herself to be ashamed. Not when he had already witnessed so much of her – the way she ticked. "I'm sorry, Daryl."

His eyes were razor sharp as they met hers for the first time since she had been curt with him. It stung, too, knowing that she had unintentionally hurt him with her words. She had attacked the only person she had left in this world, and maybe he could tell the guilt that was waving off of her, because he shrugged.

"How's that feeling?" He asked, eyes diverting from her face to the wrist she was still clutching in pain. All he hoped is that the bone had stayed put and he wouldn't have to go through this again any time soon. The whiteness of her face, the small grunts she was letting escape was killing him.

He couldn't blame her for being short with him, not when he could so clearly see her pain.

She sighed, defeated. "It hurts."

Daryl bit his lip, cursing himself for being so quick to retreat into himself. Beth needed him right now, and the very thought that things could have gone very differently changed his tune. He could be out here by himself right now.

And he didn't let himself overthink his actions as he took her bag from her, slinging it over his own shoulder and offered his hand.

 **TBC**

 **What is everyone thinking?**


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: I wanted to follow the storyline as much as possible, so here we are.**

 **Paint the Silence**

 **Chapter Three**

His eyes were watching Beth's pained expression while sleeping, even though he tried to let her rest peacefully. The sweat had started pooling on her forehead about an hour ago, and Daryl was starting to worry. She had needed to stop, even though he hated to stop moving in broad daylight, she was faltering. He was trying to cover too much ground with her injuries, pushing her too far.

"Well, well, well. What do we got here?"

He froze.

It had been a long time since he had heard a voice other than Beth Greene's, probably hadn't heard anyone else truly speak since the prison, he thought in the back of his head. Though, the voice was unrecognizable, and the face was too as Daryl stood and pointed his weapon.

He cursed to himself when he took in what was going on – what he had let happen as Beth slept away fitfully.

Five men, not including the one standing directly in front of him, were surrounding Beth and him, weapons raised and pointed all towards him. Were they more of the men that had tried to take Beth? Were they here for not just revenge of their fallen, but to take her away again? What did they want, and why did they need _her_?

So many thoughts crossed his mind in a matter of seconds.

"Huh, bow man?" What seemed to be the leader daunted at him, his voice calm but held an edge of certainty with it. And all Daryl could do was watch on, his heart hammering in his chest and willing Beth to stay asleep and silent. If he was going to lose, if this was going to end now… he didn't want her to see it. "You an' yer pretty little thang here? Been surviving all this time on your lonesome? Or did you claim her, grab her and run?"

A chill went down his spine at the way the men all looked at Beth as if she was a prize – a possession. A few of them yelled _claimed_ , as if she really was an animal.

He was seeing red.

Daryl grunted back, unsure of how to answer the man's question. Of course it was Beth and him, who else would there be? Did they see anyone else? How long had they been tracking them, following them? How much did they know? Did they know just how weak the pair of them were right now? Is that why they chose now to advance in on them?

The man smirked, and Daryl knew that this wasn't good. Not when the man's eyes travelled up and down Beth's form, like he was trying to undress her with his eyes right there. Daryl moved to stand in front of her, trying to block most of the view he could. "Get away from her."

He chuckled, and though it sounded humorous to the men surrounding him, Daryl didn't think it was too funny. The 'click' of his safety being taken off quickly changed their demeanor, though, and the leader guy narrowed his eyes.

"Now, now, bow man. You pull that trigger, kill me, my men here would drop you before I even hit the ground. Won't be no one here to stop my men from having a little fun there with your girlie." He sneered, turning to his men and signaling for them to lower their weapons. Not only was Daryl mad, he was near seeing red at the thought of any of them touching Beth. He kept his mouth shut, and didn't lower his weapon even after the men surrounding them lowered theirs. "Seems to me like you're stuck, an' I'd hate for your... _expertise_ to expire with you. Could be useful."

"D-Daryl?" A soft voice called behind him, and when he heard her stand, the weapons were pointed at them again in one swift movement. This group was well trained, well equipped. He felt Beth's small hand grip at the back of his vest, balling it up within her tiny fist. And even though his mind was running and he didn't address her, her hand grounded him.

There were catcalls and whistles, and Beth shrunk as far behind Daryl as her body would allow her.

"We ain't got nothing, got nobody coming lookin' for us," Daryl started, and all Beth could do was calculate and memorize every word that came out of his mouth. She was confused, she was scared, her arm was throbbing and all she could think about was the men in that car. The one that tried to take her away. Who were these men? She could she feel the anxiousness rolling off of Daryl. "Ain't got no weapons; ain't got nothing to offer."

"Name's Joe," the leader once again motioned his arm, and Daryl could hear the sound of weapons being lowered. He continued on, placing his own gun in his holster even with the crossbow still targeted as his head. He seemed unfazed, and that made Daryl uneasy. "This outfit here, we're called the Claimers. An' I appreciate honesty, really do. Goes a long way in a world like this."

Daryl watched on, his crossbow following the man's movements, Beth's good hand clinging to him.

"Now, seeing as you ain't got much, I suggest you band with us. Won't let the boys touch her, she's yours. I'll fill you in on the rules though, once we get going an' then I ain't making no more exceptions. I got a mission and I'm… inquiring some help. Can make this easy," Joe shrugged, a playful grin on his face. "Or not. Up to you and your missy."

Beth paled at the words, gripping Daryl's vest and shirt impossibly tighter.

"Black car, white cross. You associated?" Daryl asked, though he didn't really have a plan if the answer was yes. He could feel Beth fight her way closer to him, like she wanted to crawl up in his skin and hang on. He needed to focus right now, though his lack of sleep was becoming more and more predominant as the weight of the crossbow continued to grow, it seemed.

Joe puffed in laughter, though Daryl was a little thrown by the knowing smirk that laced his features. "Hell no, boy. Them assholes over at Grady don't fuck with the likes of us. They try and take your woman?"

Daryl sighed, and lowered his crossbow a fraction. He could tell from the look Joe was giving him that he was on the inside, knew things he didn't. This could all be one big scheme – these men could be leading them to their ultimate demise, and they would be none the wiser. Though, if they didn't follow, Daryl knew that it could come a lot faster, and one thing he was not was a liar. "Yeah, banged her up pretty good too."

"Alright," Joe spoke up, his voice dripping with authority that it was clear to see he held. His eyes swiped over the both of them before he spoke, eying them carefully. "Give bow man's woman here some a' those Advil we got. Movin' out in two."

…

Beth hadn't said a word, not to anyone. Including him.

They were behind the group of men that were loud, boisterous, and unforgiving – complete opposite of what they were used to. They were used to travelling quiet, only taking what they needed, and staying as far away from other human activity as they could.

She was pissed, he reckoned, that he had agreed to following along with these men. He hadn't had the time or space to hear where she stood in all of this, and it was grating on his nerves endlessly. He was worried about their constant pace with her injuries, although the Advil seemed to be doing her nothing but good. He'd checked in on her arm when the others weren't looking, and was relieved that the swelling wasn't escalating any further.

They travelled endlessly, sticking to the middle of what used to be a highway the whole way.

"Alright!" Joe hollered, coming to a stop in the middle of an intersection. It was starting to grow dark and Daryl was carrying a lot more of Beth's weight than he was letting on, albeit her weight had certainly declined since the serious piggybacks. "We stop here for the night. Men, make yourself scarce while I talk to the newcomers."

And like Joe was the fucking Savior himself, the men dispersed and walked into the covering of the trees, laughing and hooting the whole way. It was like some big game to these people – like they were _trying_ to bring attention to themselves.

Beth was shaking, and Daryl had to literally hold her up. Things weren't good, it didn't take a doctor to figure out that they were weak; shaking in their boots. They had nothing in their systems to sustain such a journey; had no energy left in their boneless limbs.

Joe grinned.

"I been tracking this guy, for a few months now. Killed my best friend." Joe motioned for them to sit, and all Daryl could be was stoic when Beth whimpered and shuffled as close to him as she could. "We keep travelling at this pace, we'll catch up to them in two days I reckon. Just want them to feel what I felt – what I _still_ feel. Lou and me? We went back, back to fuckin' high school."

"More," Daryl heard his own voice, though it was foreign and strained even to his own ears. "You gonna make us walk that much, she's gonna need more pain killers."

Joe chuckled and Daryl watched with a scowl as his eyes roamed and lingered on Beth for a little too long for his liking. "There's plenty more where that came from, darling. We'll get you more as soon as I'm finished up talking to your man here."

Beth could feel the blood ringing in her ears – never had she been so dismissed before. Not even when she was a defenseless and uneducated babysitter back at the prison. She had never felt so… so _objectified_.

"We're called the Claimers because we _claim_. That's how this outfit works, it's easy." Joe started, digging around in his pack before coming up with three granola bars, handing two over to Daryl as he continued, talking around a mouthful. "You see something you want? You claim it – a few a' the boys thought they could claim your girl here, got a little mouthy with me. Set them straight."

Daryl passed a bar to Beth, watching her with a steady gaze until she unwrapped it, chewing off the tiniest bite. She hadn't been eating much, hadn't been sleeping much. She would crash soon, he knew, and he was desperately trying to avoid it for as long as he could. Maybe until they were done with their 'mission'.

"I been watching you," Joe spoke up, the silence around them was thickening. Daryl stared at him with an expression that told Beth he was fuming, though there was no surprise to his features like there was on hers. They had been watching them? "Lethal, both a' ya. I ain't never saw someone hit a tire with a crossbow 'fore."

Daryl rubbed his eyes. He had failed them, had failed to get them away safely. Again.

"What do you want from us?" Both men turned to look at her, shock registering on Joe's face, anger on Daryl's. She was done sitting here pretending like she didn't have thoughts, like she didn't have a voice.

Joe chuckled, digging around in his pack again before easily tossing her over a bottle of pain killers – OxyContin – and Beth's anger diminished to nothing. Narcotics had been gone since the very beginning of the turn, had been picked off the shelf first, and she couldn't be angry. Not when something so life changing was being handed over to her. She dry swallowed two capsules and bit her lip. She couldn't even be bothered to comment that she was _human_ , and could be spoken to, when he addressed Daryl instead.

"I want you in the trees, Daryl. Want you to help take out the man who took my best friend – Lou's life. We'll swarm him on the ground, but I want someone up there." He looked impassive for a moment, as if he couldn't quite believe what he was going to say, himself. "After we get him, after all's said and done… you're free to go. Don't just make deals like this with everyone, but I like you. Like your honesty – good trait to have. Saved you both today."

And when Joe passed them both bottles of water, Daryl nodded, though he wasn't growing much more comfortable with the Claimers. "A'ight."

He'd do what he had to.

…

It was quiet all around them, and though exhaustion was a real thing, Beth couldn't find it within herself to close her eyes. Not when things were so uncertain, not when Daryl's eyes lost their battle to stay open next to her and a man she didn't know was keeping watch.

She didn't blame him because it wasn't his fault – though by the looks he had been giving her all day, it was pretty clear that he thought it was.

Beth stayed as close to Daryl as she could, her drug induced mind was making it hard to keep focus, and before she really understood what she was doing, Daryl was leaning over and looking at her with wide eyes. Eyes darting to where her good hand gripped the label of his winged jacket so tight that her knuckles were fisted white.

She scooted as close to him as she could, and he allowed her to lift his head and situate them so his head was in her lap, her good hand hesitantly pushing his hair out of his eyes. And she sat there, not quite sure what she was doing – what _they_ were doing. Everything became so fucked up all of a sudden; had it been just yesterday that they had agreed to stop searching and to just _be_?

The funeral home felt like it was years ago.

He was dozing off again, unintentionally, when she whispered. "I don't know how things are going to go… but I trust you Daryl Dixon."

His eyes were blurry when he tried to refocus on her, and when his eyes wouldn't cooperate he let them fall closed again. Maybe he was dreaming – that had to be it. After all, why would Beth trust _him_ when he had already let her down more times than he could count?

 **TBC**

 **Thoughts?**


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: Posting because I'm super impressed with the feedback, and I'm not going to lie I already have eleven chapters finished. So thank you everyone for the motivation. 'Paint the Silence', which I totally should have disclaimed in the beginning (I'm bad at this stuff guys please don't kick me out), is a song by the band South, and is a soundtrack to one of my old shows. It'll show up more than once in this story, and I totally recommend listening to it while reading, so fitting.**

 **Paint the Silence**

 **Chapter Four**

When Daryl woke, he was aware of two things immediately.

One, was that Joe's group was laid all around, snores still coming from most of the people scattered around on the ground with nothing but blankets and their packs for pillows. Joe himself was perched under a tree, back resting against the tree and head slumped over in sleep.

Two, Beth Greene was wrapped around his body and she had a vice grip on him. Her knuckles on her good hand were white while she clung to the sleeve of his button down, her mangled arm lightly resting atop of his chest. She must have crashed hard, with the drugs finally administered to her system, because when he gently moved her she didn't groan in pain like she had been since the accident.

But her blue eyes shot open at the movement, and though panic was evident in her gaze, it quickly diminished to relief at the realization that she was looking back at Daryl.

Then he put a finger to his lips, singling her to stay quiet before he motioned around them. Her eyes scanned the sleeping men, before her eyes darted back to his.

It only took one look to know what he was planning.

…

Everything had gone as smooth as to be expected, while facing off six men to their two. Well, one really, because even though she had improved greatly with her knife since the fall of the prison, her right arm was broken and she was practically useless with her left.

The only thing she could do was watch with baited breath as Daryl slipped her knife into the temples of alive and sleeping men. Things had been going pretty good until he got to Len, who had woken up just as Daryl pulled the knife from Joe's head.

She paled at the ruckus he made at first, but then took in a shaky breathe because the other five men had already been taken care of. Len was indignant – kind of just stood there like he couldn't actually believe what had just occurred. Then he turned to her, and barreled over with his hands raised to grab her neck.

Beth had taken a step back and expected some sort of blow, though it never happened. She had watched on helplessly as Daryl and Len rolled around on the ground, each fighting for dominance. To which she watched on horrified as Len pulled out a small handgun, and they both stilled.

"You… you killed them all! You _bast_ -"

 _Bang._

Daryl let his head fall back in relief as the body of Len slumped on top of him, his ears still ringing from the gun that had fired. He pushed the body off him in a hurry, impatient to get as far away from this scene as he could. The gunshot, though he was thankful it had gone the way it did, would attract every human and walker alike to their current location.

And he really wasn't itching to get into it again any time soon.

But when Daryl stood, taking in Beth's pale face with her left arm still outreached and holding the gun, what had just happened registered. Beth Greene wasn't put on this earth to cause harm – one look at her and it was clear to see.

" _How many walkers you kill? How many people?"_

"Shit Beth," Daryl whispered, pulling the gun from her hand and depositing it to the ground without a second thought. He grabbed her by the shoulders gently, willing her moment of shock to pass. She was staring at Len's fallen body, and he stepped into her view to block out the demons he could see running wild underneath her blank expression. "Beth, don't."

She looked at him, and slowly moved to rest her face against his chest. She had hugged him twice before, once at the prison and once at the moonshine shack. And she had been so terrified that Joe's men would figure out she wasn't really Daryl's _girlie_ , that she had practically clung to him last night while knowing he was uncomfortable and cagey.

So when he slowly moved to put a hand on her elbow, the floodgates opened. "It was either him or you, and I couldn't Daryl. I couldn't let that happen."

He shushed her, running his hand from her elbow to her shoulder and back again. Soothing her, even if he didn't have a fucking soothing bone in his body and all he wanted to do was pick the men clean and get the hell out of dodge. Wanted to get _her_ the fuck out of here. He had registered it was her first _real_ kill, human and not walker, and he felt like he let her down all over again.

"Hey," he drawled, trying to keep his rough voice as soft as he could while she silently shook with sobs against the front of his vest. "I'm here, ain't going nowhere."

She nodded and pulled back, trying but failing miserably to keep her eyes away from the slumped over body with a gunshot to the back of his head. He didn't let her dwell long, though, because he was passing her the bottle of narcotics and a water bottle.

He made quick work of picking mostly food and weapons off the Claimers, before they were moving again.

…

"Look Daryl, a church!" Beth exclaimed, the OxyContin making the journey a lot easier than it had been two days ago, though she wasn't completely in her right mind. He had his eyes peeled, making her walk in front of him just in case. Her ankle was almost feeling totally better, and her arm was now down to a dull pain, rather than excruciating and sharp.

He saw the church alright, he also saw the firetruck parked out front and the dozens of footsteps surrounding the entrance and walkway. In other words, there was no way in hell they were stepping into that.

Daryl looked at her and shook his head.

She gulped, trying desperately to keep her floating mind above whatever sort of depression haze that threatened to pull her under. They had been walking for hours and she still couldn't shake the image of Len slumping over on top of Daryl, the gun she held in her own hand smoking as if she needed a reminder of what she had just done.

She tried to console herself by reminding her drug induced brain that it had been either Len or Daryl. She had to make a decision, and it hadn't really _been_ a decision. And maybe that's what was eating away at her, at her consciousness; the fact that she hadn't even thought twice.

Beth hadn't had to _think_ about grabbing the nearest gun and letting off a round; she had just _did_ it. This wasn't how life was supposed to be – this isn't the way that they were supposed to live out the rest of their existence. Constantly running, tirelessly fighting.

She nodded her head at him, following him into the thicker trees and bypassing the church and the people who were inside.

…

It was two days later when they came across the treehouse.

Daryl spotted it, hidden among thick brushed alder trees, and he looked at it for a good minute before he was scrambling to the base, hefting his crossbow over his shoulder as he climbed the rickety wooden ladder to get a better look.

It was once a child's, evidently, but it was far from any sort of housing. Though he assumed if they ventured much further in the direction they were headed, they would find an old community. Probably just some kid whose parents had enough money to build them something like this. The weathered comic books in the middle of the treehouse floor was enough to tell Daryl some little boy used to enjoy this sanctuary.

He made sure to get rid of most of the child's things, not wanting to upset Beth any more than she already was as of late, and then climbed back down to get her. As soon as his feet hit the dirt, his eyes met hers and he nodded.

She visibly relaxed. They had been sleeping on the ground again, and even though the Claimers were gone, she still woke up after dozing off to panic seizing her throat, her screams coming out nothing more than little squeaks of protest.

And Daryl heard and saw, she knew, but he didn't comment on any of it. He had been distant since she had fired at Len, successfully saving Daryl and most likely herself in the process. God knows what would have happened to her if she had of let a man like Len take over.

He seemed to realize the same thing too, apparently, because he was being so cautious around her that she was teetering dangerously close to losing her mind. Where had the Daryl gone that she had learned to appreciate and enjoy? The one who offered her his hand and the one who had a reserved smirk for just her, it seemed. The one who told her stories about his brother when he was trying to help her forget her pain.

Hell, she'd take the seething and yelling Daryl over this.

"Think you can climb?" He asked, his voice coming out gravelly from lack of use. They'd been pretty quiet since passing the church, hardly speaking at all. Mostly grunts and head nods, hand motions to let each other know what was going on with the other. And it had been two days – it was driving her mad.

Beth shrugged, hefting her bag higher on her back before stepping towards the ladder. She figured it should be no problem getting up, and was so relieved when she touched the wooden floor of the suspended tree house that she collapsed in a heap, closing her eyes.

Safe was only a word that existed in her imagination now; her memories. But this damn treehouse felt like it could be The Ritz, with its peaked roof, tiny little windows and at least twelve feet between her and the ground where the dead roamed. Or worse, people.

She opened her eyes as she heard Daryl come back up, pulling the ladder with him. She stood immediately to help him maneuver the at least twelve foot constructed ladder, to which they finally got propped up on the tiny deck the treehouse had.

This was safe, if they were ever going to find it.

…

It was dark now, the only light they had was the moon coming in from the tiny windows that looked real but were in fact fake, and didn't budge an inch when Beth tried to open them to get some fresh air in the overheated little space.

They were sitting on opposite sides of the tiny treehouse, their feet almost touching with a can of tomato soup between them that no longer tasted anything like tomatoes. Or the delicious taste of what she could remember tomatoes _were_ , anyways. It had seemed like forever ago that she raced out to the garden to pick one for herself before making a sandwich, back at the farm.

The silence between them was driving her crazy, the silence that hadn't been there since they had burned down that old moonshine shack and his oppressive past with it. Something had changed in that funeral home; she was sure of it. But the series of unfortunate events that followed directly after the ' _oh'_ had shifted everything once again, taking them nearly back to square one.

She had _killed_ a man for Daryl, and other than the eyes that sometimes flashed in her nightmares, there was no other regret. None whatsoever, knowing that he was sitting there in front of her well and as healthy as anyone could be during the end of the world.

She had someone's _fucking blood_ on her hands.

Though she realized that Daryl had more blood on his hands than she ever would. _He_ was the one who had taken out five of them while she stood on watching helplessly. He had been the one to stop the car from driving off with her, and oh God she would forever be in his debt, though he refused her words of thanks.

He did so much for her, so much for _them_. Her anger deflated, and she felt bad all of a sudden.

"I'm sorry about everything, Daryl." She started, rubbing her good hand across her face. Her eyes felt puckered and dry, but she was almost certain there wasn't any tears left to cry. The silence was making her crazy and she needed to hear his voice. "Talk to me."

When he lifted his gaze and stared directly at her, she felt heat raise from her toes to the tips of her ears – his gaze was so intense and it felt like he could look right through her. See things that maybe she didn't necessarily what him to see. She shifted, but defiantly held his gaze.

He shrugged, diverting his eyes and taking a keen interest on the skin around his nails. "Ain't nothin' to be sorry 'bout, and there ain't nothin' to talk 'bout."

She had two pills left in the bottle that Joe had given her, two pills that she was trying to hold out on taking. With the pain, exhaustion and hunger that radiated through her, it didn't take much to make her anger flare. "You don't get to push me away again, Daryl Dixon. Not now, not after everything!"

His eyes snapped back to hers abruptly. "You don't know shit, Greene."

But he regretted taking out his anger on her immediately, because her wide blue eyes drained of their normal vibrant blue colour, turning all shades of dark navy and black, her face a blank mask of disappointment. His mind was lagging because of exhaustion, but his anger about everything since the funeral home was holding onto him and wouldn't let go.

The sight of Len slumping down on top of him, the feeling of _relief_ he had at that very second made him feel sick. Kept replaying in his mind over and over again like some sort of broken record. Because _she_ had been on the other end of that bullet; and she was too good for this. She was too good for all the shit he had all but put her through. Lead her into, dammit.

It was quiet, and the only noise they could hear were the crickets and the shuffling of fabric as she settled down, her back to him and facing the wall. She used her pack as a pillow and curled up as small as she could get herself. He made a mental note to look for some thin blankets to carry with them – the seasons were beginning to change again.

And he thought she was asleep, he sat there for so long staring at her back, wishing he had more to give her. Wishing he had the answers to all the questions she likely had. He was almost startled, when she spoke. "I know that if you don't let it go, it kills you Daryl."

He sat there, staring at her rising and falling back until the sun was coming back up.

 **TBC**

 **Thoughts?**


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: Let's just take a moment to appreciate the monumental moment between Maggie and Daryl, shall we? If you don't know what I'm talking about, don't google it. Spoiler alert.**

 **Paint the Silence**

 **Chapter Five**

"Let me see," he said, his hand extended towards her arm that was still done up in the makeshift cast he had constructed out of his sleeves and backpack wires. It had been three weeks since the incident at the funeral home happened, their two weeks in the treehouse proving to give her the time she needed.

They didn't talk about it – didn't talk about anything.

But it was decided that they weren't going to dwell on what happened – that next morning, after she had laid and stared at the wall for an extra hour, preparing herself for the silence between them, it ended.

 _Her eyes were so dry that when she finally opened them, they were bleary and her eyelids stuck together. Crying herself to sleep had become somewhat of a norm, as much as she hated to admit it. Whenever she lied her head down, it was as if her brain was triggered to play a montage of everything they'd ever had to endure._

 _Daddy dying – that was the worst. Her mind would conjure up a million different scenarios – all of which ended in the same way._

 _But that morning in particular, with the keening of her arm and the dryness of her throat, she had cried herself to sleep for a much different reason. She hadn't been thinking of her Daddy, she hadn't even been thinking about how maybe Maggie could possibly still be out there._

 _No, she had cried herself to sleep because Daryl had gone back to his old self. Hiding himself so far underneath his mask of stoic strength that she could hardly remember ever breaking through those walls in the first place._

 _Had it only been a few days since they agreed to stay at that funeral home?_

 _She stared at the wall of the treehouse she was facing for a lot longer than her sandpaper throat wanted her to, but she could hear his breathing from across the small space that was the sanctuary. Could remember what she had whispered to him in the darkness of the night, reminding him of their time at the moonshine shack._

 _It had been the first time either one of them brought it up. It was kind of an unspoken agreement – that they would move on and there was no need for discussion. Not when they both agreed to let it go. There was no need to bring it up._

 _When she did finally turn around, their eyes met instantly. Daryl was still propped up in the same sitting position he had been when she finally succumbed to a fitful slumber. His eyes, bloodshot and droopy, were the bluest she had ever witnessed._

 _She looked at him questioningly, and caught the half-filled water bottle that he easily threw her way, and was once again amazed at how the man before her knew her so well. "You gotta remind me sometimes, Greene."_

 _And she smiled._

Beth gingerly extended her arm to his waiting hands. The pain had gone down significantly, though there was no doubt that without the proper medical care, of which no longer existed, that her arm would never truly be the same again.

The doctor had told her mother that the first time she had broken it, and she didn't need a medical professor to tell her that now.

"Hurt?" He asked her, seeing the flash of fear that she allowed herself to show. Her arm had been in bad shape when they reached this tiny little tree fort – they were lucky they got here when they did. He made quick work of untying the makeshift splint, and was relieved when the arm underneath only donned a small fading bruise.

She shook her head, expertly rolling her wrist slowly. He could sense the relief that washed over her as well. He sat back and let her take over the examination of her arm, watching her prod and poke certain places until her smile was as radiant as the Georgian sun.

…

"I'll miss this little place," Beth admitted as she turned around to catch a glimpse of the treehouse fading into the distance, where they were making their first real trek since they had found the place. Her ankle was completely rested and her arm was getting there.

And because of this, they found that there really was no reason to stay, anymore.

"Mm," Daryl hummed in agreement, flicking his eyes over his shoulder for a moment, but didn't completely turn around like Beth did. She felt sentimental towards things, and though he was trying to understand her world a little more each day, he never could understand how she saw the beauty in everything.

All Daryl had to say about the treehouse was that it was stifling, cramped and made for more awkward situations than he wanted to remember.

"Maybe we should look for another one?" Beth suggested, continuing her quick stride behind him. They didn't discuss where or what they were doing, but when Daryl had woken that morning and began to throw all their things together, she had accepted it was time to leave.

Staying in one place for too long, as they had come to experience firsthand, could and usually would be a doomed demise. Like the farm, the prison, the funeral home. They had ran into their fair share of heavy moments, and right now they just wanted solitude.

"C'mon, lots of ground to cover." He told her, because he wasn't quite sure what she wanted him to say at this point. They couldn't permanently stay in a place where he couldn't even fully stand – and he wasn't going to tell her that looking for another treehouse was unlikely.

She was quiet as she followed behind.

…

They'd come across a little village that ran alongside of a moving river, one that looked as if it had been ransacked and searched through a million times before they stepped foot into the dusty town perimeter. The only way they could tell how long they had been walking was the sun, and it was about to go down again.

It was decided without words that they weren't going anywhere near the center of town, and circled around as many places as they could before coming to a tiny cul-de-sac in the furthest outer lying community closest to the river. They really did need to search for food, weapons and anything useful at this point, but Daryl only took one more look towards the sun before he was motioning her towards what looked like the average home.

The average home _before._

They did their usual routine, and when the two home dwellers were taken out of their infected misery, they began to board up for the night. Windows had to be covered, doors and entrances had to be secured. Noise catchers had to be hung, and dinner needed to be scavenged.

"Do you think we could have a fire?" Beth asked, coming to a halt in front of the picturesque fireplace that all the furniture was pointed towards. Although, she suspected that had been done for the massive flat screen television that was mounted above it.

Daryl had been ruffling through the cabinets in the kitchen and reanimated with a mason jar full of pickles. When he spoke, it was around a mouthful. "Why? You cold?"

Beth chuckled before plucking her own pickle out of the jar. She motioned towards the massive cauldron that was obviously a decoration for the previous owners, but she figured it could be extremely useful for what she had in mind. "The tub upstairs is huge. If we fill this thing once or twice and heat it, it would be enough for a bath."

And Daryl shook his head, because only a person like Beth Greene would think about cleanliness while actively surviving in an ending world.

He shoved another half a pickle in his mouth before grabbing the massive iron pot, trying to ignore the vibrant smile that she shot in his direction as he made his way to the door. "You start the fire."

And Beth did what he asked, starting the tiny fire she allowed herself, before running back up the stairs and wiping down the tub as best she could. She heard him come back in just as she was rummaging through dresser drawers in what must have been the master bedroom.

The woman that had lived here before had been much larger than Beth was, but she still found enough items that would work – a pair of black tights, a loose cotton t-shirt and a pair of underwear hidden in the far back corner, a pair that probably hadn't fit the owner anymore. Anything that didn't fall off and was relatively clean would work at this point.

She was just starting to carefully pick through the males clothes when Daryl appeared in the doorway with a can of opened cherry pie filling, her noticeable shock making him smirk around the spoon that he had shoved in his mouth.

"Got the water on, place is boarded up," he explained, before flopping down on the huge mahogany back boarded bed. She nodded, though she didn't stop her search through the drawers. It wasn't until she started throwing things at him that he realized what she was getting on about. "Sayin' I stink, Greene?"

She laughed, and it was hard to hear over the thudding in his chest when she spoke. "I think we need to feel human again, and getting clean is a good way to start."

He looked through the clothes she had thrown at him, and was silently pleased that she had taken the time to pick things that he may wear. Maybe the Nike t-shirt wasn't really his thing, but it was black and it was clean.

When he felt the bed under him move, he watched as she timidly climbed up onto the bed with him, taking the spoon from his hand, taking a heaping spoonful and shoving it into her mouth. "Mmm, it still kind of tastes like cherries."

"Kinda," he agreed, taking the spoon back from her and repeating her actions. It was getting dark quick, and he figured he better find some candles or even a flashlight before they were running around in the dark. "Water's probably ready, I'll carry it up."

She smiled. "Thanks Daryl."

…

He had to admit, he _did_ feel more human after getting washed up, after she fussed and made him wait until she cleaned the tub after herself, for him. He had rolled his eyes and let her go on about her business, not really understanding when they had both stumbled in here with walker blood and nature gunk plastered to the both of them.

He had just walked downstairs, his ears immediately picking up the sound of something he hadn't heard in a long while – since the funeral home and only God knows how long before that. Maybe the prison?

Beth was singing.

Softly to herself, while looking further into the cupboards of the kitchen with a tiny tea light candle for light. He stood in the doorway of the grand kitchen, where it was easy to tell that money had been an object _before_. Marble countertops, stainless steel appliances. Although, when he thought about the two bodies that Beth was insisting they bury in the backyard tomorrow morning, he knew it hadn't done them much good.

 _Don't paint the silence black now save me  
Don't leave it a day  
You got a right to stand or die so maybe  
You take chances all the same  
Pain comes in stages  
If we don't make it  
Nothing changes_

Her singing dwindled to humming until she let out a gasp, and Daryl almost had to bite his lip to refrain from smiling. He watched on while Beth clutched a tiny Halloween chocolate bar to her chest in complete adoration – he knew that chocolate was her thing. Or, rather, it _used_ to be her thing. He listened a lot more than he let on, while she quietly bantered to him and more to herself throughout their journey.

She turned her head sharply all of a sudden, catching his eye. "Are we ever going to try again, Daryl?"

He stepped further into the kitchen, letting the candle illuminate his features. He propped himself up on the counter before he looked back at her. "Try what?"

"Are we ever going to _try_ to stay somewhere again?" Beth looked wistful for a moment, and diverted her eyes to the chocolate bar in her hands. He was watching her closely, so closely that he could see the tears start to pool. The tears she refused to let fall. "You know, _make it work_?"

He rubbed a hand down his face before nodding. "Yeah Beth, we'll make it work."

 **TBC**

 **Thoughts?**


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: I hope people are still interested in this story. I promise that the adventure is not over just yet.**

 **Paint the Silence**

 **Chapter Six**

"Daryl, look!"

The last thing he wanted to do was _look_ at whatever the tiny blonde headed woman was gasping about. The last time she had called him over to the tiny window they had left unbarred, it was for something as ridiculous as a few flurries of snow.

They had settled in well here, in the average but grand house at the end of the outer lying cul-de-sac. It was ungodly quiet, and the only walkers that ever showed up came in a group no larger than three or four. The town, they discovered when they made sure they were ready to venture in, was desolate and bare of anything useful. They had grabbed a few cans that were left, things like pie filling and creamed soup – things that no one took in the beginning, but there wasn't much else. Certainly no medications or drugs left at the tiny pharmacy that had all its windows smashed out.

There was a tiny little clothing store, a consignment shop of sorts, and when they searched through it they found a lot of clothes for Beth. A lot of winter numbers that they knew would soon be necessary, but came up short when Beth had started to rummage through his size of clothes. It went unsaid, but they both knew that most people her size hadn't made it far enough to scavenge for clothes.

The river that was directly behind the house, hidden through tactical tree planting, was not only a means of survival but also protection from behind. Daryl had gone around, taking pieces of already existing fences around the tiny town, and he had begun to make their own fence. It was still in the primary stages, and it had gotten almost too cold to work outside for hours, but it was a beginning.

It was a beginning of something that neither of them spoke about – not since they had promised for the second time that they would make it work. They didn't say anything for the fear of everything crumbling around their feet, like everywhere else had.

Daryl was lying down on the couch that he had claimed as his bed, while Beth chose to pull the mattress from upstairs down in front of the fireplace. The house was a little too big for the two of them, and the only time either of them ventured upstairs was to look for things, or to take a bath.

Bathes had become kind of a weekly occurrence for Beth, and he found himself filling that antique cauldron more times than he would like to admit. When he asked about it, asked why it mattered so much to her, she had just shrugged and said she had always like baths.

After that, he filled it and put it on the fire whenever she asked.

"Daryl!"

"A'right, a'right," he grumbled, though he was sure that she knew by now to not take him seriously. With her arm still causing her some discomfort and pain as of late, it was nice to see her excited and smiling. Even if it was just snow. But when Daryl reached the window, he was surprised to find two green eyes staring back at him. "Is that…?"

And then Beth was out the door.

…

"Daryl it's so cold, what if she doesn't come in?" Beth asked of him, while she sat outside on the freezing ground with a can of tuna that was supposed to be their dinner. He'd have to go off and get some game, though he wasn't leaving anytime soon it looked like.

Not when Beth was sitting on the ground in the middle of the back yard, trying to softly coax out the terrified cat.

He sighed and looked around them again. The only time they were usually outside was to get water and whenever he decided that they needed to hunt; even then Beth mostly stayed around the house. Daryl hadn't seen her so content in a long while, and he didn't dare say anything to ruin whatever they had going on here.

"Must have survived this long, one more night won't kill it." But as soon as he replied, by the dangerous look that he was given, he knew it was the wrong one.

"Daryl Dixon, this cat has been through just as much as you and I have. I'm not going anywhere until she comes out." Her eyes were a defiant shade of blue, and all he could do was nod his head along with her, because he knew when she had an idea, she didn't quit. She was headstrong, and it wasn't a bad quality.

…

The sun was setting by the time he was getting back into the perimeters of the house, with two rabbits hanging over one shoulder and his crossbow on the other. He'd brought out a blanket for Beth to sit on and her knife before he left, and he was anxious about getting back.

Anxious that the cat may have ran away, and he just _knew_ Beth would follow it. She wanted that cat to come inside with her, and she wouldn't rest until it was warm with a full stomach.

When he hit the yard, the first thing he noticed was that everything was gone, including her. The blanket, her knife, the can of tuna that she had been trying to coax the cat out with. And it took every ounce of self-restraint in him, to not call out her name. The last thing he wanted to do was attract attention to their little hole of the world.

He took off towards the house, and let himself take a breath when he realized the door was locked up and solid. He knocked – a knock that they had worked out for themselves, and he heard shuffling on the other side before the door was thrown open.

Beth's smile was radiant – she was almost glowing.

"Daryl, she came in!" He tried to give her a smile when she grasped the labels of his vest while he tried to push his way in and shut the door behind him. "We need to go on a run. We need to find cat food. I searched the house but I couldn't find any. She ate the whole can of tuna, Daryl! She must be so hungry and scared."

He watched with an amused expression as she started puttering around the room, the cat sitting on the very top shelf of the bookcase, staring down at the both of them. It was all black, except a tiny patch of white around its front left paw, and Daryl figured that it had blended in well with its surrounding. Cats were smart by nature, but hell they hadn't seen one in a long time.

It was strange, having what would be considered a domestic pet in the old world, suddenly here and alive. How many houses had they raided only to find the remains of the family pet – that is if the family hadn't ate their pet in the first place?

"When can we go?" Beth asked, picking things up that the cat could possibly get into, and as he looked around he realized that she had moved all their weapons to one of the glass cabinets that dishes used to sit in. She had pulled the chain link fence over the fire, something that they hadn't bothered to do when they first arrived, and she had a huge bowl of water sitting beside the arch to the kitchen. "I was going to try to give her some jam, but she wouldn't touch it."

Although Daryl was annoyed, he couldn't help but notice her eyes looked more alive than they had since maybe the prison. And the cat that was perched high up on a bookcase, staring intently at the both of them meowed, and the look that came over Beth's face was enough to make up his mind.

"Give it some of these tonight," he explained, kicking off his boots because Beth had starting asking him to last week when she decided the house needed to be cleaned top to bottom. The fridge had been the worse, and it was actually starting to smell like the soap and cleaner Beth had found now that the rottenness was gone. He knew it wasn't safe, knew that they were playing fucking house at the end of the world, but he couldn't deny her. Not anymore – not after everything. "I'll go tomorrow."

Beth nodded, though she still felt the clawing grip of worry flood though her system. It had taken almost all day to get the cat to come close enough to grab it, and the scratches that lined her arms and chest were enough indication that the poor animal had been through hell and back. It was completely and totally terrified.

She'd picked up everything that she knew cats would get into – string, their weapons, and any kind of food that they had lying out. She'd moved the huge planters to the deck, even though the things had been long since dead. Hell, she'd even made sure that upstairs was void of any kind of dangers for the tiny feline.

Growing up, she had owned a few cats. Mostly barn cats, ones that stayed outside all year round, and lived with the cattle and livestock. She remembered owning a completely white cat in particular, and that cat wouldn't let anyone but Beth touch it. Her Daddy had always called her the animal whisperer, though Beth knew it was because her patients for animals never wore out.

She watched as Daryl threw a few more logs on the fire that they constantly kept going, throwing the cooking rack on it and throwing the skinned rabbits on top. Sometimes, when it was so quiet and it was just the two of them _living_ , it was easy to forget everything that had happened.

Everything that they had lost. _Everyone_ that they had lost.

Beth moved closer to the fire so she could keep an eye on dinner, falling into the usual routine that had started while living under this roof about three weeks ago. She thought, anyway, since time was now just a concept and everyone who was left lived by the sun. Day or night – there didn't need to be any specific time as of late.

Maybe she would start her own calendar.

She was just flipping the rabbits with the barbeque poker that they had scavenged from a house on the street, when she heard the cat meow. Startled, she whipped her head around only to see Daryl Dixon, big mean redneck, wiggling one of his bolt feathers for the cat.

The cat, though obviously malnourished and tiny, batted at the feather and slowly became familiar with the man who was playing with her, gaining more and more confidence as it leaped for the feather every which way he wiggled it.

Beth bit her lip – she knew the _real_ Daryl Dixon.

…

Their bellies were full of charred rabbit and hot water, the cat proving to not be picky as Beth had shredded up pieces of the meat as best she could.

Daryl was lying on the couch after just coming in from double checking the perimeters, and Beth had snuggled up on the mattress beside the fire. She had found the linen closest while searching for laundry soap one day, and now there was plenty of blankets to share between them. She had set up a bed of blankets in the middle of the couch and mattress, and tried to coax the cat to lie down, but she had perched herself back on top of the bookcase after she gobbled down the meal of shredded rabbit.

The fire was roaring, though Beth knew that they would soon need to find an axe and get to cutting enough wood to last the winter – the already cut wood in the shed outside was quickly diminishing. She didn't figure Daryl would let her help, what with her arm still being tender and hindered, but she could at least keep him company and help carry some in.

She noticed Daryl reading some sort of gardening book in the dim light of the fire, and her heart clenched unexpectedly. He was such a different man than he had been since the groups' arrival at the farm – a completely different person. The man who had cast his tent far away from everyone, had settled down and promised to make it work with _her_.

Beth was looking at the ceiling, thinking about how maybe Maggie and Glenn had gotten out of the prison – that maybe Rick had grabbed Carl and… and Judith and got out of there. Maybe Michonne had grabbed the newcomers, the kids from Woodbury. Maybe they were all together and living just like Daryl and her were.

She heard the thump before she noticed the cat creeping slowly towards the mattress, and she stayed as still as she possibly could in fear that the creature would change its mind. Though she wasn't disappointed as it very timidly climbed its way towards her, putting a paw on her forehead before walking to the corner of the bed that was closest to the fire.

Beth was so filled with joy that her vocals started on their own accord.

 _How can you say your life is empty?  
So late in the day  
Why would you stay another second?  
Now your sight got in the way  
A combination of love and aggression  
Another second lived_

When she trailed off, she noticed the look both the cat and Daryl were giving her, was something she didn't quite understand.

 **TBC**

 **Thoughts?**


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: I have to say, I personally love this chapter. What is everyone thinking? I love hearing ideas and thoughts.**

 **Paint the Silence**

 **Chapter Seven**

"We must've walked a lot further than we thought," Daryl groaned, kicking the white fluffy snow that kept falling from the sky away from the door. He had been on a run that morning, had bagged a few squirrels along the way, and had raided the local pet store.

He was glad Beth hadn't come, too preoccupied in making the cat as comfortable as she could. The sight of the pet store – a place that hadn't been touched since probably the beginning, was almost too much for even him. He had taken out the walker that had still wore a green PetStore vest, which had probably cleaned up most of the cages he didn't want to see.

He had grabbed all the cat food and toys that he could carry, and got the hell out of there. There would be plenty for a while, but he knew that he would eventually have to come back.

Looking around the house, he realized that he would have to acquire a shovel at some point soon, and rapped on the door with haste. It was freezing out, and he hadn't exactly been prepared for when the sky opened up and the snow started to fly.

The door opened, Beth standing there with a wild smile on her face, the cat perched comfortably in her arms. And all he could do was smile back.

…

The cat was munching happily on the bowl of dry food that Beth had placed out for it, but Beth herself wasn't looking too good. She was pale – paler than she usually was. He was instantly in front of her, worried. Was her arm really going to cause them trouble after all this time? What if she got sick – he'd have leave town to look for medication.

"What's wrong?"

"I've been thinking… thinking about the others lately." She sighed. The look that came over Daryl's face conveyed his thoughts on the matter, his naturally tanned skin paling the faintest shade lighter. "We have it so good right now, and I just hope they do too."

 _You ain't never gonna see Maggie again!_

Daryl nodded his head along with her, returning to the porch to drop his crossbow and the game bag on floor before kicking off his boots and walking closer towards her again. The cat noticed his arrival, but with just a glance it was back to savoring its food.

He could tell from the look deep within her darkening eyes that she was still hurting – that maybe she had never fully gotten to mourn the loss of her father, or being separated from her sister and brother in law. Hell, sometimes he was sure he'd turn the next corner and run into Rick.

Time didn't make it easier, it was just a reminder of how long it had been.

Daryl shrugged, leaning against the doorway arch. "Can always start looking again."

Beth shook her head furiously, a flash of something reflecting in her eyes that he didn't quite understand. Her forehead was puckered when she spoke. "We've been here for almost two months now, and it's been even longer since the… the prison. I don't want to go anywhere."

He nodded, because while he would have done whatever she wanted, he was silently glad that she was deciding against going back on the road. Being out there was something that had always been second nature to him – he had been surviving out there for a lot longer than most people had. Had been surviving by himself out there long before the world ended.

But one look at Beth, and he knew that he didn't want to be out there anymore. Which was fucking absurd because until this he never wanted to stay put. Had blamed the death of Hershel and the group splitting up on staying in one place for too long.

Now look at them.

He couldn't even hear Merle's voice bouncing around in the depths of his thoughts anymore.

No, all he could see and hear and smell and feel was _her._

"Me neither," he said with finality. And the smile that broke out over her face was contagious, as much as he was trying to keep his thoughts at bay. His fucked up thoughts that had become more and more present as time went on and she kept giving him those looks and touches.

He sucked in a breath and tried to keep his shit together as she carefully wrapped her arms around his middle. "I'm glad, Daryl."

He placed his hand on her elbow.

…

Beth just checked off the third month block on her calendar when Daryl strode into the kitchen from outside, the wind and a gush of flying snow following after him.

"Ain't gonna have enough wood if this keeps up," he reluctantly admitted, kicking off his boots and shaking his head much like a dog would, snow and slush flying in every which direction. "Ain't seen a walker in days though. 'Bout 4 feet down, I'd say."

She nodded, allowing a tiny bit of relief to wash over her. The winter months were certainly worse here in the cul-de-sac they had ventured to than what she remembered from growing up on the farm. Much colder and a lot more snow. Though the cold immobilized the walkers and they had seen even less people since their never ending journey to the small town.

"I found a few spices in the next house over this morning, I think I'm going to try to make soup with the rabbit we have left." She told him, her mouth salivating as she thought about the turkey dinner soup her Mama used to make after the holidays were over. "Maybe in the spring we can try our hand at vegetables? I mean, we'll have to go look for good seeds, but maybe."

Daryl looked at her vibrant smile, and he couldn't have denied her even if he wanted to.

…

The snow continued to fall, which meant that more firewood needed to be cut.

There had been a few bad storms, and despite Daryl's efforts to keep the deck cleared, the snow and ice crunched under his feet as he stepped out. Beth was already out for the morning, with the small bucket they kept to collect river water, and as of late, snow.

She was slowly filling the bucket, her head snapping up and eyes darting around every so often. They had lived here for going on four months now, and it had been good. So far, nothing had happened and no one had shown up. Their existence slowly returned to living, as they collected things they needed and scavenged what they could.

They were thankful for each day their eyes opened, when so many they knew, hadn't made it.

Daryl lit up his first smoke of the day – he was trying to go easy on them. Not only was he beginning to run low on the carton of tobacco and tubes Beth had found for him a few houses over, but he also knew that she wasn't particularly fond of the habit he had picked up when he was thirteen.

Thankfully, the previous owners of the house had planned for many winters ahead. Daryl hefted the axe he had retrieved out of the china cabinet over his shoulder, and scanned the pile of long tree logs that were piled taller than he was. The wood would eventually run out, seeing as it was their only means of warmth, but it wouldn't be this winter. He wouldn't have to mess with cutting down trees in the mid-winter climate.

As he finished his smoke, he watched as Beth continued to fill the bucket with snow. He knew that he would have to bring it in the house for her, and without a word they fell into their regular routine. He watched as she disappeared around the corner of the house to relive herself, and when she was walking back around he grabbed the bucket and laid it inside the door for her.

He knew the first thing she was planning on doing was feeding the cat and melting down some snow for it, so he didn't hesitate in trudging his way over to the wood pile. It was hard work, cutting all these logs by hand. Though he welcomed it, it gave him the reminder that he had to stay sharp out here where the walkers and people were scarce.

…

"Daryl," Beth called, who was sitting cross legged on the mattress she had pulled by the fire, mounts of blankets surrounding her and the cat that was cuddled into her. "Maybe we should name her? It's been almost four months."

Daryl, who had been aimlessly watching out the tiny porthole window they hadn't covered up, turned in her direction. The six or more feet of snow that surrounded their house at the end of the cul-de-sac was about as much reassurance as they were going to get.

He nodded at her, and her eyes gleamed.

"Okay, well I've been thinking." She started, pulling the sleeping cat into her arms. He watched as it looked around for a moment, but then contentedly closed its eyes and resumed its nap when the offending arms turned out to be Beth's. Daryl had never witnessed an animal so comfortable with its owner before. "We need to agree on it, but I really like Jade."

Beth flashed him a smile, and he thought that maybe it _was_ time to name the damned cat that Beth had brought in. Maybe it was time to let them become fully comfortable in the hidden house that they had found. Maybe it was time to stop looking out the window for danger – at least until the snow was gone.

"Mm, better than calling it the cat," he revealed, playing with the hairs on his chin. He'd opened up in the months of living here, opened up more than he had to anyone before. He couldn't believe that he was sitting in the middle of a living room, with a marble fireplace naming a cat.

With a girl like _Beth Greene._

Her smile was instant and radiant up at him, before she turned to nuzzle the loudly purring cat again. He tried really hard not to hang onto her every word as she began talking in her overly high and sweet voice – the voice that she reserved for _Jade_. "Hello Jadey, do you like that name, huh?"

And the cat stretched, and Daryl was almost sure he saw the damn thing smile.

…

"I want to start again." Beth declared to him, as they were respectively sitting in their own chairs in the dining room, around the corner from the roaring fire in the living room, but not far enough away that they were freezing.

Their food supply was running low; so low that Daryl was itching to get into town even with the six or so feet of snow in his way. Animals were scarce as of late, within good reason as the weather continued to worsen. The very last thing he wanted was for Beth to go hungry – she was already so small and frail.

"Start what again?" He asked, pushing the almost empty jar of peanut butter towards her. She liked to let on that she wasn't hungry, she liked to remind him that he had to keep his strength up and that he deserved the larger portion of food.

But he didn't like it. So he told her of his plan on a run.

" _Doing_ things again. _Helping_. I feel like an invalid, Daryl, and it's not fair that you've been doing all the work while I've been stuck in here." She paused, waiting for a reaction from him. When she didn't receive one, she started again. "My arm is as healed as it's going to get. I want to start training again."

Training. They had been training before the series of events that happened after the funeral home turned out to be a trap. He may never forget the look in her eyes when he handed her the crossbow for the first time – never forget the way she had bitten her lip, memories of him turning anyone down who asked to learn at the prison dancing across her eyes.

Things had been put on definite hold though, when the people Joe had called 'Grady fuckers' hit her with that damn car and shoved her in a trunk.

He shook his head, he couldn't think about that.

"A'right. But you ain't going into town yet. Not until you're ready." He told her, and he watched as she thought about it for a moment. He half expected her to give him the finger and run off, telling him that she wasn't staying here with him and that she didn't need him. All he desperately wanted was to keep her safe, keep her away from the monsters that would love to sink their teeth into the beautiful blonde that sat opposite of him.

Walker and human.

She nodded after what felt like a lifetime. "Okay. Deal. Do I get to use the crossbow again?"

He scoffed, although by the muted laughter that shook her body, he knew that she understood his behavior by now – the way he ticked. He could tell she was close to busting with laughter, and he tried to refrain his lips from curling up at the edges. "Don't push it, Greene."

 **TBC**

 **Thanks for reading!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: So yeah, this chapter happened last night.**

 **Paint the Silence**

 **Chapter Eight**

So they slowly started.

It was too icy most of the time although the seasons were slowly changing, to keep real balance. To keep balance while attacking each other in different scenarios that he would conjure up in his sick mind – all of which had happened at some point in their survival. Men that are bigger than her, grabbing her from behind, pulling at her dangling long ponytail, wiggling her way out from underneath someone who's on top of her.

All the while Daryl felt like the biggest pervert left alive.

He almost couldn't admit to even himself that he _liked_ that Beth wanted to get back into training – he _liked_ that she trusted him with her fully. That she would fucking _encourage_ him to pin her down, while she struggled to escape, mimicking hitting him in places where she refused to actually hit.

" _It's you," she had said to him one afternoon while training. Her cheeks were rosy from the blistering cold, the hat that he had grabbed for her pulled far down over her ears. "I can't_ really _hurt you. I mean, it's_ you _."_

Feelings that he had never experienced before began to surface, and when he didn't know what else to do, he found himself out at the woodpile with the axe he had been lucky enough to find stored in the very back of their houses' shed. Blowing off steam, concentrating on the task at hand rather than the blonde who kept giving him lingering touches.

…

Beth had just knocked off the six month box in her calendar when she heard it.

 _Voices._

Daryl had gone on a night long hunting trip for the first time since their arrival here at the cul-de-sac, after she had practically ushered him out the door with promises she would be okay. After all, she had the cat now, so she really wasn't alone. It was nice to have the cat as a comfort, and whenever Beth was ready for bed, it usually was right beside her.

Though, when the cat heard the unfamiliar voices, it was gone.

Beth stood in the middle of the room for a lot longer than she should have – shell shocked. Of all times for Daryl to be led away by the tracks of a deer.

She knew that the intruders would come to the conclusion that someone was living here; one look at the half constructed fence they were working on would be enough. Not to mention the smoke coming from the chimney, even if they tried to keep it as low as possible for this reason in particular. Even the windows were boarded up and the booby traps for the walkers they had set.

It didn't surprise her when she heard a knock on the solidly locked door – and it wasn't the knock Daryl and she had figured out for themselves.

She moved as quietly as she could, glancing back to see the cat perched on the very top of the bookshelf – something it hadn't done since becoming familiar with the both of them and its new home. Beth could feel her heart fluttering wildly around in her ribcage, and she wouldn't be surprised if the people standing on the other side of the door could hear.

"H-hello?" The voice sounded out, hesitant and frightened. A female. Not what she was expecting. Joe and Len's face flashed before her eyes, the scene and terror of being shoved into the trunk of the black car with the white cross immobilized her. "I… I'm alone. I… I got away. Please."

The knocking on the door made her breathing hitch. Was this person going to come in forcefully?

There was a crack, what sounded like someone loading a gun. Beth raced to the tiny little space of window that they had left unbarred, trying to get her eyes to adjust to the darkness only to see what she knew to be the staggering of a walker coming towards them.

The woman, probably no older than her looked like a wild animal. All gangly limbs and sunken in eyes. Her arms and hands were shaking as she pointed the gun towards the walker.

Beth's heart clenched as she raced to unlock the door, swinging it open and yanking the woman inside by the back of her clothing, effectively knocking the gun away. Beth had her knife wielded, had the mindset to put it up against the shaking girl's throat before she let herself breathe. Her intruder didn't need to know that her arm ached at the movement, and that she could probably bat the knife away easily. One hit to her arm, and she knew she would crumble even with the training Daryl had been providing her.

"You ever shoot a gun around my house, I'll kill you." Her voice was distant to even her own ears – detached and lethal. She tried to imagine a world where meeting people didn't need to be so abrupt and dangerous.

The girl, who had her dagger across her throat squeaked in understanding, her body going slack and boneless. "I'm sorry, I-I didn't… please don't."

Thinking quick, Beth had the girl tied up in a matter of seconds. She sat her on the coach, all the while keeping her own appearance just out of view. Beth knew she wasn't the scariest human left out there – but she had made it. Just as well as anyone else had – she was strong.

And she wasn't taking shit from anyone.

Not anymore.

The girl seemed to relax slightly when Beth came into view, although it didn't last long as Beth pulled one of their many recovered weapons out of the china cabinet that had become their weapon holder when the cat arrived. Beth glanced towards the bookcase, to notice the cat still watching them curiously.

Beth turned, standing directly in front of the shaking woman, after double checking that the door was locked up and the walker had fallen far into one of the holes Daryl had dug, and she had covered with brush before the winter had hit. She double checked again, making sure that it couldn't get out.

Time to get to it.

"Who are you?" She asked, trying to remember the process that Rick went through while meeting newcomers – that is if they weren't bad people or posed any danger. "Lying isn't recommended."

The girl sitting before her turned to a blubbering mess.

Beth took her in, the slight little thing with her grown out pixie cut, dark brown almost black hair. Her eyes were sunken in, and the flimsy dress she wore left little to the imagination. Her wrists and ankles were ringed in scars; some still bloody and open, her feet bare. And she was dirty – caked in filth everywhere. In other words, it was a miracle that the woman in front of her hadn't died of hypothermia before stumbling upon them.

Beth felt like a jackass, but wouldn't budge.

"I-I escaped… _him_. The _Savior_. He'll be looking for me, please Miss, please don't." Was all the woman got out before returning to her deep breathing and rocking. "Wife. One of them. I-I can't."

Beth's bubble busted immediately.

…

"Here," Beth said, with a warning look before untying the woman's hands. The hot water Beth passed onto the woman was greeted with gratefulness. Beth grabbed one of their spare blankets that she had tucked up and folded across the back of the couch for when one of them got the chills, placing it gently around the shoulders of the woman whose shaking continued.

After drinking some of the water, the woman's voice sounded more human rather than animalistic.

"You need to tell me everything," Beth warned, growing more anxious and wearier as the time went on. What if this Savior came looking for her, what if they showed up before Daryl got here; she would be useless – they hadn't had enough time to train. Her arm was still too weak. How was she going to explain taking in this woman to him? "Are people looking for you? How far away is it from here?"

This was bad. She immediately doused the fire.

The girl took in a steady breath. "Thank you – so much. I-I'll answer everything."

And so Beth learned that there was a man named Negan, who had a compound called The Sanctuary, and they called themselves The Saviors. That they targeted other larger communities and took whatever they needed, trampling over anyone necessary to get what they needed.

Larger communities – for six months it had felt like Daryl and her were the only people left on Earth.

She learned that Negan had wives – maybe even up to twenty wives and the woman sitting in front of her had been one. And that this man knew no mercy – she had recalled the story of how her husband and she had been captured. How she had watched her husband die a painful death under the hands of the man named Negan. How Negan had pulled her behind him afterwards and made her _his_.

Beth learned that the man had a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire that he used on his victims, a bat that he had named and thought of as a person. An inhumane practice that made her cringe, and worry immensely that Daryl was out there. That he had been going out there for months.

"How… how far away are these people?" Beth asked, the one question that had been on her mind for a long while.

The woman looked down, looking a little white. "Not far enough."

Beth cursed.

…

As soon as Beth heard the familiar footsteps, she was out the door in a second. "Daryl!"

Though, Daryl was not alone.

Her voice was all but a whisper as she took in the sight in front of her. "Rick."

The man standing in front of her, though, didn't resemble the same Rick Grimes that she had come to know. Had come to know since the farm. The man standing alongside Daryl didn't even amount to what he had looked like after Lori. No, what she saw was frightening.

Rick had seen things.

His smile faltered, almost as if the concept was now foreign to him. His words were muffled by the beard that hung over his lips and chin. "Beth."

The two embraced, and Beth was mildly confused that Rick smelled of pine and soap and not the stench of living on the road she was expecting. Though when she stood back to really take him in, her heart clenched. The man standing in front of her was a different man than she remembered. "Rick?"

Rick nodded, understanding. "She's back at Alexandria."

Beth felt like she was floating all of a sudden, and she was so very thankful for the arm that Daryl offered because she wasn't sure if she could stand anymore. Maggie was _alive_. She let out a breathy laugh of amazement, until she took another look back at Rick.

His eyes were dangerously close to black. And Beth listened when he started speaking, with tears rolling down her face, gripping onto Daryl's arm for all she was worth.

…

Upon entering the house again, the woman who still hadn't moved jumped inches off the couch when lying eyes on Rick.

Daryl was confused and angry about the whole situation, though his anger deflated as Beth grabbed the cat and disappeared upstairs after hearing news of Glenn. About his untimely demise and how he had gone. How Maggie had to watch – how they _all_ had watched. Some guy named Abraham too, though Daryl wasn't sure who that was.

Rick looked out of place standing in the middle of the open concept downstairs to their house. He looked cagey and unkempt – wild. Daryl had seen a lot of shit since the world had ended, but by the haunting of Rick's face, he knew it could never amount.

The woman, who apparently Rick had noticed before, stayed as far away from them as she would allow herself. He hadn't gotten a chance to talk to Beth yet, but from the few words exchanged between his former best friend and the woman, he made the connection pretty quickly.

"How did you escape?" Rick asked, sitting on the floor rather than the plush furniture, angling himself towards the woman who was watching them both with jaded eyes. She was watching Rick like he would at any second lunge at her.

"I ran when you were going through… initiation." Her voice was weak but her resolve was strong. As if she would latch her long dirty fingernails to the couch and never let go, had anyone mentioned making her go back.

Daryl looked on as Rick mulled this over for a second.

"He'll find you," Rick told the woman with no remorse evident in his face. Daryl wondered briefly if bringing Rick back here had been a mistake – the man wasn't the same anymore.

…

Daryl found her sitting in the empty bathtub upstairs, the cat lying in her arms, its head nuzzling the side of her face every so often.

He shut the door behind him, though it was odd because they never spent time upstairs. Not since it had become so cold, and there was no heat up here. He grabbed one of the plush towels Beth made sure to keep washed and folded, and gently threw it over her shoulders.

The cat watched him move around until he sat on the very edge of the empty tub.

It was quiet for a long while, and everything that he had planned on saying went out the door. His mind blanked and his mouth froze – there wasn't enough words of comfort to erase the idea of how Glenn had gone. Of how Maggie must be doing – how their unborn child would never meet its father.

 _"My Dad. I thought- I hoped he'd just live the rest of his life in peace, you know? I thought Maggie and Glenn would have a baby."_

It took the cat meowing to break her out of it. She looked up at him, her face a mask of hurt. "We're getting out of here."

His eyebrows raised, questioning her.

"You, her," Beth said, motioning to the cat. "And me. We're packing what we can and getting out of here in the morning."

Daryl was suddenly conflicted. Everything that was coming out of her mouth was what he had been wanting to hear, yet he wasn't sure if he could leave his brother behind. His brother that had been through so much more shit than he had; he felt bad for playing fucking house while their people had been out there suffering and _dying_.

"What about Maggie?" He whispered, unsure if this was what Beth really wanted or if she was saying this to please him. Things had been going too well, in their little forgotten cul-de-sac.

"I don't know Maggie anymore." Beth said with finality, standing and taking the cat with her.

 **TBC**

 **This isn't the end of Team Family just yet, I promise.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: My greatest fear is that people will become bored. What are your thoughts so far?**

 **Paint the Silence**

 **Chapter Nine**

"You have to take her," Daryl told Rick, standing out on the front porch of the house they had become to call _home_ , as fucked up as it was. Thinking they could actually find a place where their days wouldn't be just surviving.

He felt defeated in every sense of the word.

Rick was looking out to into the tree line, the river that was beginning to unthaw and flow again behind the house – the expansion of woods behind them. The half ass holes they had dug and covered up to help with keeping walkers out – the half constructed fence that he had been working on before the winter hit.

Everything about Rick was off.

"I will." Rick sighed, defeated. The woman who had curled up into a ball at the end of their couch deserved anything but going back there, though Daryl wasn't sure how else to handle this situation. How else to keep these so called Saviors away. Away from Beth. "You're not coming."

It wasn't a question per say, it was more of a statement. A fact that had been figured out.

Daryl didn't say anything to that, he didn't know _what_ to say. He had been loyal to Rick since the beginning of this – he had stuck with the man even after he had handcuffed his brother to that damn rooftop. Rick had never let him down, had never wavered his trust. They'd been through so much together – since the very beginning.

But he wasn't going with him, and that meant that somewhere along the lines, his priorities had changed.

Rick may need him, but Beth needed him more.

 _He_ needed Beth.

"You an' Beth?" Rick asked, finally looking back to him, his eyes travelling up and down his body. He felt self-conscious all off a sudden, thinking about what Rick would tell the others. How they would react, what would they say now that they weren't joining back with the group again? Searching for their family had been their main concern, until it wasn't anymore.

They weren't walking back into the battle zone, they were done with the fighting – the need for more.

"Nah," Daryl shook his head, trying but failing to keep eye contact with the man that he was realizing he didn't know anymore. "Ain't like that."

Rick nodded faintly, though his eyes didn't seem like they were there with him. They looked so far off, so _dark_ that they once again were engulfed by silence. It was quiet for so long that when the man who he used to consider his leader, his _brother_ spoke up, he hardly heard him.

"Here." Rick passed him a crumpled frayed paper, and when Daryl looked at the map that had safe routes marked in green and routes where there had been trouble marked in red, he didn't know what to say. "Stay as far east as you can. I'll take care of Negan."

…

When they were readying for Rick to hit the road, leaving the house on the cul-de-sac, Rick promised the woman a safe place back in Alexandria. There were walls and there was a community of people trying to rebuild what used to be. She was hesitant, she was scared and she had turned to Beth with pleading eyes.

"You can trust him," Beth whispered, putting a tentative hand on the shaking woman's shoulder, who she had suited up in a fresh pair of warmer clothes curtesy of the woman who had lived here previously. "Rick is a good man. He's going to do as he says."

And she had nodded back at her, because the woman really had no choice. She couldn't stay here, and though there was strength in numbers, Beth and Daryl had decided that they were going to go at this alone. No one, besides their family now, knew of their existence. They were free to pick up and start over, where Rick and this woman had fights yet to battle.

Beth pulled Rick in close to her, and though he returned the embrace, Beth could tell he was stiff and rigid with grief and nerves. She didn't let herself dwell, however, before she handed over a piece of paper that she had tied up with a bit of purple ribbon she had found in long forgotten Christmas decoration boxes.

"Would you give this to Maggie?" Beth asked, standing back and watching as Rick rolled the hand written letter around his hands. "And… and please tell her that I'm sorry?"

Rick nodded, and embraced Daryl quickly before they were off.

…

"What do we do now?" Beth asked, feeling a little out of place in the house that they had become to know as _home_. It didn't have electricity like Rick said Alexandria had, it didn't have running water or a propane stove.

They had found candles, kerosene lamps. They'd scavenged food and lived off the land the best they could, with the winter still hanging on for dear life. They'd brought back cast iron pans they used over the fire, they had a bathtub that still drained properly, and they went on trips to neighboring houses to bring back whatever would be useful to them.

Never had they had had so much – not since the prison.

The tears pricked her eyes as Jade nudged her way in between the both of her feet, nuzzling her head along Beth's shins. "Where do we go?"

Daryl watched on, watched on silently as Beth began to break down; began to grieve for the home that they had come to love. The home that they didn't think they'd have to leave so soon – not when everything had been going so great.

And he caught her, thankfully, when she teetered into him. "Daryl?"

But he didn't know how to respond.

…

It was two days later when he was looking around for one last time.

They'd repacked their old backpacks, of which they kept packed with essentials regardless to be on the safe side, and Beth had packed a third smaller bag that she had found in the linen closet for Jade. There was no way that they were able to keep everything they had collected – no way that they could lug around everything that had been useful to them on their backs.

Daryl knew that they were already pushing it when it came to travelling heavy, and he didn't want to risk anymore weight on their backs in case they had to run. Which _would_ happen at some point, he was sure of it. There was no way to be out there without it.

 _It_ being fighting, scavenging, surviving, running. The list went on and on.

Beth was fretting, and although she hadn't said much about it, he could tell. The way she was fluttering around, probably checking the three bags for the twentieth time was even setting him on edge now. Neither of them wanted to do this, and found it ridiculously heartbreaking that the world had continued on while they had been living here.

They had been so convinced that it was over – that they had finally found a place to just _be_. That maybe it hurt knowing the world hadn't stopped for them, more than leaving this random house.

He strapped on his backpack, strung the cats pack on his belt and grabbed his crossbow, throwing that over his shoulder too. He walked over to the china cabinet, where they had started to keep their collection of weapons, and filled each pocket. There was no way that he was leaving any of that behind, and even decided that he was going to take the axe.

"A'ight." He breathed, glancing around one last time. He grabbed an extra blanket too, because if he knew her as well as he thought he did, she would definitely need it by nightfall. "You ready?"

Beth came out of the kitchen, her own backpack now strapped onto her, the size of the pack seeming to swallow her small frame. Strapped onto her front was a baby carrier, and Daryl was anxious to see how this was all going to unravel.

There was no way in hell that Beth was leaving that cat behind, and he had searched almost twenty houses in the small town before he had found what she had sent him out to look for. Of course, she had asked him to cut a small tail hole in the bottom, but he tried to push thoughts of Judith away all the same.

"Okay," she breathed, her hands trembling slightly. "Let's get Jade in, see how this is going to go."

The cat was in no means pleased that it was being strapped into a baby carrier, and Daryl felt the stinging on his hands and arms from the claws it had bared. Though when Beth began a tune, the cat was looking up at her and it seemed like all was forgotten as it quieted, settled down into what would be the safest way possible.

 _Now the violence sleeps inside  
Abandoned feelin' for just a piece of mind  
Paint the silence  
It's the reason why your teethin' side irates me  
Paint the silence_

…

They were on the road for what he figured was close to an hour, before she spoke up.

"So, what's the plan?" She asked, because she hadn't been concerned about that for the last two days. She had been preoccupied with preparing them to leave, in making it look like no one had lived there throughout the winter.

The cat had long ago accepted that they were starting on a journey, and started to lazily lick at its paws as if this was just some sort of vacation that they were on. Beth rubbed its head every so often as to assure it, and Daryl still couldn't believe the affect the petite woman had on everyone and everything.

"Going to try an' find a car to get running," he explained, the sun overhead beating down hotter than he had expected. Spring was on its way, and that meant that there would be more traffic – walkers and humans alike. "Rick said to stay east."

And he didn't really have anything else to go by, other than that.

"I think we should look for a cottage," Beth revealed, her voice nothing but a whisper as she paused to allow him take out a walker that had started to amble behind them. The cat had a minor freak out at the sight, but it wasn't anything that Beth couldn't soothe. "Like the moonshine shack. Away from everything else."

He nodded, because he'd been thinking along the same lines.

…

They walked for five days, camping out in whatever shelter they could find come dark.

The snow that had been seeming to melt back at the cul-de-sac house was back with vengeance, the further north they travelled. He was staying far east, trying to direct them in what he imagined would be a diagonal path.

It was cold, and Beth had the extra blanket he had thought to grab wrapped around both her and the cat that had by now accepted the carrier, who sat patiently with super alert eyes. The cat was actually a great tool in surviving – it seemed like the cat was always much more aware of pending danger than her human counterparts were.

The cats ears would stick to its head, and its back would curl as much as the carrier would allow it – probably one to two minutes before a walker would stumble out, ambling after them. It always took Beth a moment to calm the cat down again before they continued on, but Daryl wasn't complaining.

About a day ago, the air had changed. Daryl had picked up on it, the further east they were travelling. He was trying to keep track of the state they were in – if he even dared to call them _states_ anymore – but it was hard due to the fact that most of their travelling was within the trees. They stayed far away from popular highways, sticking to walking a little ways in, following older and much less travelled roads. Following Rick's map, trusting him fully and completely.

The only thing he desperately wanted to do was outskirt Washington, where Rick had crossed a huge red 'X' through, though he knew that it was almost impossible if they were going to continue on their journey east. Yet he didn't dare venture any further west, trying to push the thought of Glenn's death from his mind.

There was no way in hell that he was letting anything of the sort happen to Beth.

Right now they were travelling on the outskirts of the Mt Vernon Trail, and when they came to a clearing, it was clear to see why the air had changed.

"Wow," Beth breathed as she quietly crashed out of the trees behind him, taking in the expanse of the view that laid out in front of them. The water was blue, so blue that it was sparkling. It was beautiful, breath taking. "I've never seen the ocean before."

And that had Daryl reeling because neither had he.

 _Never been out of Georgia._

He wasn't familiar with the landscape here, he wasn't familiar with any of it. The only thing that he was going by was that there most likely wasn't any housing on an old running trail, and that if they found something around here, that they would take it.

He'd had to take out a few roaming walkers that had the remains of bicycle helmets, but other than that it seemed pretty desolate. They hadn't seen anyone or heard any kind of human life on this journey as of yet, and they were both thankful for that.

Beth gasped audibly. "Daryl, look!"

And look he did.

 **TBC**

 **Thanks for reading!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who is keeping with this story – I've been a little obsessed with it as of late. There's still lots in store for Beth and Daryl.**

 **Paint the Silence**

 **Chapter Ten**

As they slowly made their way over the embankment that lead to the ocean, a million thoughts passed through Daryl's mind.

What were they walking into, would someone else have already thought of this idea, was there people behind those windows looking out at them? He tried desperately to keep the negative thoughts at bay as they got closer to walking out into the open.

No trees, no land to run on. No, when they walked out on that dock, they were exposed to anything and anyone that wanted them with no escape route.

The bitter air was salty, and Beth could feel the chill right to her bones. She made sure to wrap Jade up tightly, although the cat had been passed out sleeping for the first time since their journey had begun. Excitement threatened to compromise her breathing, and adrenaline pumped through her veins.

This could be exactly what they needed. Or, it could be their end.

Either way, Beth was ready. She was ready to try something new, be somewhere new. The walking had her tired, the snow had her cold and wet, and all she could think about as of late was the warm bed she had made in the house on the cul-de-sac. She wanted more – she wanted to figure out what they were going to do. Though, she waited as Daryl scoped it out.

"Ain't sure about this, Greene." He admitted, eyes squinted as he took in their surroundings. There was absolutely no movement, and that frightened him. The last time they had stumbled upon something that had been _too_ good, was because it had been a trap. A trap that had almost done them in.

Daryl sighed before turning back around, contemplating the repercussions that could come out of this scenario. Things could go sour real quick, and where neither of them were strangers to fear, he still wasn't itching do get into anything.

But if they could get to that little dory tied to end of the dock? Well, they could probably get out to that lighthouse in the harbor. It was hard to tell if there was any movement from this side of the land, and _if_ they could get over there, there was no telling if they could get back unscathed.

And he never really did have luck on his side.

"We have to try." Beth whispered back fiercely, her wide eyes catching and trying to hold contact with his own. He knew she deserved this – hell she deserved a lot more than what this stupid lighthouse had to offer.

"What 'bout hunting? Can't do that over there." He scooped out the tiny embankment that stood out in the middle of the harbor, the place was only big enough to hold the lighthouse and the tiny house the light keeper must have lived in at some point.

"We can use the dory, and we can find fishing poles."

Daryl nodded, she seemed to be sold.

…

"Jesus Christ don't go so close to the edge!" Daryl whisper yelled, all his senses standing on end as he cut the decrepit salty rope that had the dory attached to the wharf.

Beth's eyes darted to him like he was crazy, but she did step further to the middle of the dock. The cat was not impressed with the new location, and the scratches that lined Beth's arms and neck showed for that.

He pulled the dory along the dock, flicking his eyes in every direction before leaning down to inspect the little wooden death trap. Both oars were neatly tucked into their places, the haul looked sturdy and the little motor was hauled out of the water. He had no intentions of starting that motor, not when things were so unpredictable.

"Get in." Daryl advised, holding the rocking boat as steady as he could while she gingerly climbed in. Neither of them had any experience when it came to the ocean, and they definitely didn't have sea legs. His stomach was in his throat as he stepped one foot in.

"Daryl!" Beth suddenly yelped, pulling the last bag that was still sitting on the dock into her lap, pushing away from the dock with all her might. She watched on helplessly as Daryl teetered, only catching himself at the very last second, two hands gripping the sides of the dory with white fists. But the dory was away from the dock, and she was trying to calm the cat that was flailing and scratching at her.

"What the hell!" He yelled, whipping around to face her. He was pretty close to upsetting this whole damn thing, and he wasn't itching to go for a swim in the below freezing temperatures. He figured that out of everyone, that she would've watched that stupid Titanic movie where everyone died of hypothermia.

Sadly, that was the extent of his knowledge. And he hadn't even watched the whole damn thing.

But standing at the dock was at least five walkers, their arms outstretched until they splashed into the water, their heads disappearing under the surface.

Daryl blanched.

He raced to get the oars in place, visions of the hands of walkers that were bound to be underneath the water's surface, capsizing the boat; both of them meeting their end. He couldn't let the current take them much closer to shore, or the many scenarios that flashed through his mind would become reality.

He bashed the heads of a few of the underwater walkers with the oar he held in hand, before he was paddling furiously.

The current was stronger than he thought it would be. And by the time that they had made it to the tiny sandbar where the lighthouse stood, he was exhausted and spent. He hadn't stopped rowing – not for a second. He knew that if he did stop, it would have only pushed him further back. He didn't know much but he could feel the dory drifting along with the current; he wasn't that stupid.

Beth looked absolutely stricken as she took in the expansion of the massive lighthouse that was now in front of them, feeling utterly ashamed that she hadn't helped get them over here. She felt extremely selfish as she watched Daryl's back heave in exhaustion.

This had been her idea, and when she glanced back at the almost herd like group of walkers that had accumulated on the edge of the ocean they'd just left, she felt the guilt hit her fully.

"Daryl –"

But Daryl cut her off with a shake of his head. Right now was not the time.

…

They pulled the dory as far out of the water as they could before they even thought of going further into the island that held the lighthouse.

Now that they were over here, it was easy to tell that the place had been abandoned long before the world ended, Beth suspected. She remembered learning about certain places like this around the world when she had been taking global geography in high school; most of the lighthouses that adorned the coasts were historic sites.

Well, they _used_ to be historic sites. Now, as Beth looked at the dusty windows, it seemed like it could be a paradise. There was no way one could swim this far out, and even so they'd be able to see anything or anyone coming their way long before they actually arrived.

But she didn't want to get ahead of herself, and she petted Jade's ears as the cat mewed in discontent. They'd been on the road for a while now, and there was no hiding that all of them wanted to find somewhere to lay their heads at least for a few hours.

Daryl was still getting the dory ready for a quick exit when he whipped his head to look at her. "Leave your pack here. Looks like there ain't been no one here for decades."

She nodded, and relished in the feel of her heavy pack being removed, before she followed after him to the entrance of the lighthouse. And Beth had to admit; she'd seen a lot of creepy things. She'd seen a lot of real life horror movie stuff as of late, but the lighthouse as they walked up to it, it was daunting.

It was old and weathered and the windows were grey with dust. The tower loomed over their heads, and when Beth looked up she could see the old mirrors that must have reflected the light over the ocean long ago. The whole picture was just absolutely creepy, and it made the hair on the back of her next stand on point.

Daryl took in the bolted shut door. The inside was probably wrecked, but they had laid everything on the line for this place. There was no way that they could go back to the other side right now, with walkers lining up, disappearing into the ocean.

Could they walk all the way over here? On the bottom of the ocean floor?

Daryl moved exceptionally quicker at that thought, as he pointed out the bolted door to Beth. "Bolted, ain't getting in that way. Gotta find another way."

She nodded, and they moved on to the next available door, that happened to be on the other end of the island, the door that Beth knew must lead to the tower that loomed over them. It only took Daryl a moment to unlock the door, but he made sure to look behind him at her face before he made another move.

She had the cat strapped to her front, still, her knife wielded in her right hand, even though they had talked about her getting acquainted with her left since the accident. She looked a little nervous as he watched her glance from the cat, to him back to the tower that was over their heads.

"Y'okay?" Daryl asked, knocking on the door just in case. If anything was in there, they'd hear.

She nodded, catching eyes with him. She wanted to apologize for what had happened back at the dock, and she wanted to apologize for not helping him row over here. She wanted to tell him that she was sorry she had suggested they go out of their comfort zone, but she knew he wouldn't listen.

He never listened when she thought he had every right to be upset with her.

"Yeah." She nodded, and when no noise came from within the lighthouse, Daryl pushed the door open and she followed him in, shutting the door behind them.

The stagnant smell hit her as soon as she got the door closed. Stale air, musty furniture, sandy floors. But there was no smell of death, and Daryl only walked around the tiny room once before his crossbow hung at his side.

Beth asked Daryl the question, and he nodded even before she opened her mouth. So she let Jade down, the cat instantly disappearing behind everything new, and Beth took it all in herself.

It looked straight out of a story book. It was one room, and everything was there. The old floral coach and chair set, the ancient wood stove that doubled for heat and cooking, the manual pump at the kitchen sink. The tiny double bed that still had the plastic over it, and there were even a few forgotten fishing supplies in the cabinet by the door. Even the putrid green toilet and claw foot tub, that also had manual pumps, were sitting out in the open.

All the cupboards were bare, but they had a few things to snack on for the night in their packs, and Beth was eager to check out the decorative lobster pots she had caught sight of out front. The ocean was plentiful, as Daddy used to say when he brought back lobsters once a year for their July 4th picnic party, and she wondered if they could figure this all out.

She shook her head, pushing those thoughts away.

Daryl was just coming down from the tower as she stood back up, keeping a close eye on the cat as it sniffed around everything, its black paws becoming grey with the dust that covered every surface in the place.

"Good?" Beth asked, showing him the tiny amount of fishing things she had found in the closet as he closed the metal door behind him.

Daryl nodded, picking up the pack of fishing twine while Beth further inspected the wood stove, only finding a few pieces of wood in the crate that was lying beside it. "Yeah, we're good."

Beth smiled.

…

"Okay," Beth declared as the sun had finally gone down and they weren't able to do anything else with the lack of light. The quiet waves surrounding them were peaceful, and Beth was beginning to feel safe and protected by the currents that surrounded them. "We should make a list of what we're going to need."

Daryl nodded, though he hated to see her rip out a piece from the journal he had found for her back at the tiny town where they had resided in the grand house at the end of the cul-de-sac. She'd been keeping track of the days since then, and he never commented about it.

"Wood." Daryl said right away. They only had the few logs that were left here, and the chill of being out in the open water was settling within their bones. The cat wasn't even straying far, and was tucked in as close to Beth as it could get.

Beth nodded, writing it down, along with fishing poles, cat food, and flour in her scrawling hand writing before glancing back up at him. She smiled at him, and rolled her eyes at his questioning glance. "We can fry fish in flour; if we can find any. And if we can catch any fish."

"Make a trip back over in the mornin'. Hit up those houses we saw back a ways. Get some game, stock up." He explained, making room for the cat as it made its way onto his lap. Must be cold, he thought, because that's about the only time the thing turned to him instead of Beth. But he didn't have the heart to make it get off of him, so he stayed still as Jade the cat got settled.

"I want to come too." Beth declared, raising her eyebrows as he looked at her with a scowl. She knew that he didn't like when she was out there, knew that he was nervous about her arm. But she couldn't stay trapped on this island forever, and her voice was firm as she spoke. "We need to stock up, Daryl. Two is better than one."

He sighed, but nodded.

 **TBC**

 **What do you think?**


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: Thank you everyone – I love hearing your feedback.**

 **Paint the Silence**

 **Chapter Eleven**

By the time Beth had woken the next morning, Daryl was obviously already up and around.

She could tell as soon as she sat up on that uncomfortable sixties couch, her neck stiff from the sitting position she had stayed in all night, that she was alone. She wanted to get everything scrubbed and washed, she wanted to begin making this lighthouse their _home_. But not today – today they were going on their first run for the new place, and Beth was anxious.

Beth didn't dare let the cat out as she made her way to the back door, which was also connected to a small tunnel that lead to the stairwells of the tower. She had yet to venture up there, and still found herself creeped out by it for no other reason than its daunting size and the history it had witnessed.

It didn't take her long to find Daryl tinkering with the motor of the boat, hands grease covered and his face in a confused scowl. The breeze was brisk, winter hanging on by the tips of its shirttails, and Beth shivered. They had a few blankets, ones that they had travelled with, but they were due for a wash much like themselves.

"Thing ain't gonna work," Daryl spoke up over his shoulder, without looking behind him to see that she had come out after him. He didn't need to turn around to know she was there, he could just _feel_ her. Wiping his hands on the rag he kept, he took the motor off and set it aside. "Gas expired."

Beth nodded, as she followed him back into the lighthouse.

…

"A'right," he spoke up, shouldering his much lighter pack a little later in the morning. It went without saying that they were going to try it out here, and they had emptied their packs of things that wouldn't be needed on their run.

They'd found a few old dishcloths that were stored away, and under Beth's order they had been cleaning the place up a little bit. Getting the first layer of dust off, anyways. And she was right; after they had ran the cloths over the dusty surfaces, things were starting to look and smell better.

Salty, everything was really salty as the moment of truth was revealed; the water pumps. And as Daryl had suspected, the pipes were drawing from the ocean, which meant salt water. It wasn't particularly ideal, but Beth had assured him that she knew how to get fresh water from salt water, all she needed was a large pot with the lid, and a slightly smaller pot to fit inside.

When he asked how she knew that, her smile had faltered.

" _How you know 'bout this stuff? Thought you never seen the ocean before."_

 _The radiant smile that she had been adorning since the lighthouse began to look less like it had been untouched in decades slipped, and Daryl immediately wish he could take it back._

" _Otis. He used to tell me all kinds of crazy stories about when he was growing up in Florida. I could've, and did listen to him for hours." She tried to replace the smile, but she turned away from him, the cat seeming to notice her distress immediately as it rubbed up against her legs before wandering off again. "I just didn't think I'd ever have to do these things."_

 _He was silent at that._

"Got the list?" Daryl asked, stuffing the last bag of trail mix into his pocket. They were officially out of food after this morning, and the cat hadn't even had anything to eat yet today. They had a lot to gather, a lot to scavenge and a lot of places to hit before dark.

She nodded, climbing into the boat that he was holding for her, and he noticed that her knuckles were white from her grip on the edges. He didn't blame her, he wasn't itching to get back into this death trap either, but they were over here now and they very well couldn't stay over here without supplies.

This time she grabbed for the third emergency oar, and it helped significantly as she sat in the back and added to his even strokes. He wasn't scared of drifting off this time, but he _was_ still concerned about the walkers that would be underneath the surface by the dock.

He told her as much, through gasps of air, and she peered closely into the water with her knife ready as they got closer to shore, biting her lip in anticipation as if one would pop right out to the surface and grab onto her. But Daryl couldn't say he was upset when both of them were standing back on the dock, breathing hard but still breathing.

"Gotta get as much as we can now," he explained, though he didn't think he needed to. "Don't wanna be doing that too much."

"We have to keep a look out for that herd too." She reminded him as she began to walk off the dock, staying as close to the middle as she could. And only when they hit real land and started the trek to the villages they had passed on their journey to the lighthouse, did she speak up. "And if one of us doesn't make it, the other _has_ to go back for Jade."

Daryl glared at her. "Ain't gonna happen."

She shrugged, and Daryl found himself annoyed once again at the passive attitude she had about her own demise. "Promise?"

He just kept walking.

…

Their first hit was a tiny little home on the outskirts of a bigger community, a little trailer that was so obviously old but looked like it had been well maintained in its day. And after taking out the lone resident of the home, they'd gotten to work on their scavenging routine.

Beth's domain was the kitchen and bathroom, Daryl usually took the bedrooms and the basements. But this time in particular, they opened the cabinets to find it completely stocked. But Beth was sullen, upset almost as she rolled a can of spaghetti in her hands.

"This stuff is already three years expired," she stated, going through the lot of them and making two different piles. She looked troubled and Daryl waited, because he knew there was more. "We have to stop relying on this stuff."

Daryl had shrugged and began stuffing cans into his pack anyways.

"I'm serious." Beth stopped, standing and catching his eye. "We have to start learning other ways to do things."

It was true, and even though he didn't want to admit it, he knew it was true. And he knew that she was right, like usual much to his annoyance.

Canned food would only last so much longer, and if they soon didn't stop to figure out how to take care of themselves without all of the first world bullshit, God knows what would happen to them when everything _did_ run out.

And it _would_ happen. It was almost as certain as death.

"We're wasting room with those expired cans." She relented, wringing her hands, but it was clear to see that she was trying to make a point. "We can carry back flour, sugar, yeast. Things that won't go bad. Things that are still everywhere, because no one else wanted them."

Once again, Daryl Dixon was blown away by Beth Greene, and her wisdom far beyond her years.

"Ain't anyone had time to make bread." Daryl scoffed, but she smiled to herself as he only selected the cans of fruits, leaving the rest behind.

…

Turns out they had to make a pretty big circle around the town that they wanted to get to because of the herd, and by the time they reached the first house, it was much later in the day than they had wanted.

But they dove into it nonetheless, and Daryl had to train his eye to catch the things that she now suggested they look for. Seeds, flour, yeast, spices, sugar. Scratch items – items that sat in the back of people's cabinets that were deemed useless by groups like them in the beginning.

And the items that they were looking for were plentiful, and Beth was happy about it. She'd spent many days in the kitchen with Mama when she had been growing up, and unlike Maggie who preferred to fetch the eggs and feed the chickens, Beth had _always_ wanted to be on dinner duty. She was confident that she could figure something out.

They were making their way back to the dock when things went to shit.

The herd they'd been trying to avoid was standing right in front of them, and when the first pair of beady eyes landed on them, they all came at once.

It only took a glance at each other before they turned around and dashed off, their fully loaded packs weighing them down significantly. They were still within town limits, and neither of them were very familiar with the terrain, but they dashed into the covering of the woods anyways.

They could run for a while – hell this wouldn't exactly be the first time they'd had to bolt out of somewhere on foot, but Daryl could already tell that Beth was struggling. It was clear they'd gotten too comfortable and stuffed their packs a little more than they needed, and he cursed himself for letting this happen.

The terrain was rough, with deep wooded roots that stuck out and made their ankles ache. Beth could feel her lungs burning, though her body did not stop. She was fueled with the adrenaline and fear of the groans that came from behind them.

They were moving so fast, and she tried to keep her head facing forward, but every once in a while she caught herself looking over her shoulder back at the quickly gaining herd. There were so many, and there were only two of them.

Daryl grunted and she immediately knew that his plan was to veer one way or another, and she only missed a single step as he dashed off to the left, the walkers confused for only a second before changing their direction.

There were too many to outsmart, and as the herd closed in around them, Beth let out a small shriek in protest. "Daryl!"

"C'mon!" He yelled, grabbing her by the arm and dragging her harshly through the tiny opening that was still left, the groans and snarls becoming so loud that every sense became overwhelmed by death. He'd shouldered his crossbow, yanking out his knife and taking out a few that staggered too close for his liking.

Beth wielded her own knife, holding it firmly in her right hand even though they had practiced with using her left too many times to count. It was natural, it felt right, and how could she be concerned about a long ago broken arm when death was staring her in the face.

Literally.

They pushed through, the last walker in their way falling soundlessly before dashing through the woods in another direction. It seemed as if the herd that was chasing them was multiplying, when they caught sight of a long ago forgotten cabin.

It was hardly ideal, and the herd would surely know where they were hiding but it was their only option, as far as Daryl could see, and he had to let go of the straps of Beth's pack as he changed direction again, his foot pushing away walkers as they staggered too close.

It was then that Beth fell.

The pack on her back was heavy, Daryl knew that, but when she fell she landed on the pack, her legs and arms in the air. He watched on helplessly as a pack of walkers came at him, and he had to advert his eyes to the task at hand.

His heart was beating in his throat as the last one fell, the rest of the herd closing in so quickly that he raced to the door, and Daryl Dixon certainly never _prayed_ before but he thanked whoever the hell was up there because the door opened when he turned the knob.

"Ah!" Beth cried in triumph as he turned back to her, her knife black with dead blood as she hauled it out of a walkers head with vigor. She'd taken two down on her own, and though his chest swelled with warmth that she was okay, they weren't nearly out of the water yet.

"Beth, here!" He growled, his voice deep even to his own ears. And she looked up at him, her doe eyes making connection with his for only a second, before she dashed towards the herd of walkers.

 **TBC**

 **Sorry, not sorry! Let me know what you think.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note: Okay, so I was really bummed over the lack of response from the last chapter. Then I realized that one, I didn't receive an email stating that I posted a new chapter – and two, a reviewer let me know that they didn't receive an email either. I've been experiencing some issues when it comes to posting new chapters on this story, and I apologize for any confusion. I sent the error page to support, so hopefully they're looking into it.**

 **Paint the Silence**

 **Chapter Twelve**

"Beth!" He yelled out as he watched what she was doing, and he didn't even hesitate to dash after her, taking down a few walkers that were coming at her from behind. That would have undoubtedly taken a chunk out of her pretty blonde head had he not put an end to it.

This was stupid, this whole thing was stupid and all he could do was watch on as she hefted her backpack on, before turning sharply and running towards the open door of the cabin. His arms were aching as he dropped probably his tenth walker, following after her as she raced towards the door.

And only when they were inside the tiny cabin, the whole thing rocking from the pressing hands outside, the windows smashing and the foundation cracking, did he let himself glance back at up her. Their breathing rough, their hands and arms covered with a new covering of walker gunk. "What the _fuck_ was that?"

She looked so innocent he wanted to punch a wall. "I – I wanted to get-"

"Get yourself killed?" He yelled, not caring about the walkers that pounded on the side of the decrepit structure. He stalked so close to her face that he could feel her rapid breaths hitting his face. "Ya pull shit like that and you're just another dead girl!"

He couldn't deny he wanted to see the flash of anger that passed through her eyes.

"I'm fine!" She yelled back, but she looked a little guilty too as her eyes dashed around the cabin, the herd making its presence known as they continued their pursuit of food.

Daryl grabbed her arm, but his grip wasn't hard and she wasn't afraid of him. Not now, not ever. She let him pull her to the hole on the floor, and he lifted the latch and then they were in the cellar. It was barren, cold, and dark, and only one flick of the flashlight they kept for emergencies let them know they were totally alone. It was tiny, cramped and they were definitely in each other's personal space, with the massive empty shelving on either sides of the wall.

The groans from the walkers were drowned out significantly as Daryl slammed the hatch shut, the cellar becoming pitch black. All they could hear was each other's breaths coming out in short puffs.

It was dark until he lit a candle, placing it down on the floor. The cellar, once lit, showed off just how confined they were, and with the herd still pounding on what was left of the cabin standing above, she felt her breath hitch.

But Beth was still angry at him. She had saved a lot of supplies back there, and she had held her own. She was damn proud of herself. "How could you say that?"

His eyes were wild as he took a step towards her, his hand coming up to hold onto her arm, but she didn't back away. She was angry, she was still breathing furiously but she squared her shoulders and looked him in the eye.

Daryl immediately retracted his hand as if her skin has scorched him, and he diverted his eyes. His tongue was sharp when he replied. "Don't need nothing that bad."

"Daryl–"

"Nah," he interrupted her, turning back to her and stalking closer to her even with the cramped situation they were already in. "Ain't nothing in that bag worth more'n –"

He cut of abruptly and moved as far away as he could, his eyes not moving from the dark floor of the cellar, but Beth knew what he was going to say. She knew what he was going to do and say before he did, sometimes, and she had always figured that came with only having each other in survival for so long.

But now, standing here looking at him, Beth thought that maybe she had always known. Somewhere deep down, repressed due to their surrounding atmosphere, but it was always present.

It only took half a step to be standing in front of him, and when she picked his head up with her hand, he looked a little surprised. They didn't really have personal space anymore, when it came to each other, but this was new. It was new, exhilarating and right. It felt so incredibly right to her as she smiled up at his confused expression, her hand slowly falling from his cheek to his shoulder.

"Beth." He said, and she didn't let herself think or question as she stood on her toes and pressed her lips to his.

He didn't respond at first, and only when Beth was starting to feel like the largest fool left standing did she feel his lips press back with the lightest of pressure. It was sweet and very modest but Beth felt her insides curl with the feelings that soared through her all at once.

She was kissing Daryl Dixon. And he was kissing her back.

He let out a shaky breath as they pulled back, resting their foreheads together and Daryl slipped a tentative hand to her elbow.

…

Beth wasn't sure how long they were in that cellar, sitting on the dirt floor that was cold and damp, with sounds of the dead haunting them from above.

Daryl had moved one of the massive shelving units, with admittedly not much of her help, to the trap door above for some support, just to be on the safe side. And since then they hadn't communicated, or had really done anything but twiddle their fingers and clean their knives.

It wasn't uncomfortable, but they hadn't talked about it either. Beth felt like she was bursting at the seams waiting for it to come up, but she refused to apologize. How could she possibly apologize for something that had felt so right?

"I miss Jade." Beth whispered, tired of the silence. They had come a long way since the beginning, and she didn't like when there was so obviously things that needed to be said between them. "I feel like we're missing someone."

The candle was almost burnt halfway and they both subconsciously knew they would have to blow it out soon, but Daryl raised his eyes to hers and his eyes danced with the flicker, and she suddenly didn't care if it burned to nothing.

He nodded his head. "Yeah."

"I'm not sorry, you know." Beth watched on as he chewed his lip, giving her a look that she couldn't exactly figure out. She knew Daryl, and maybe she had fleeting moments of wondering what it would be like to be with him, but all of this was extremely new. "And I'd do it again."

"Beth." His voice was warning and he felt pained, and it was taking all of his strength to stop himself from lunging over and pulling her to his chest and feeling what she had just made him feel. He was too damn old to be allowing himself to even think of those things, let alone do them.

She would be his undoing, he was positive.

"You can't tell me you don't feel it too," she accused, and when he met her eyes he couldn't find the strength to argue with her. Couldn't find will to deny what she was accusing. He was weak, fuck he was weak when it came to her. She had him, she always had him.

He sighed, but she didn't let him speak.

"Can we just forget the bullshit reasons you're about to give me?" And she was surprised when he kept eye contact with her, but it gave her confidence a boost. "It's been just us for so long now, and even when we _did_ find our family, we chose to stay out of the fight. No one else matters."

Daryl felt all his restraints break, and she let out a little breath of joy before he had her hair in his hands and his lips on hers.

…

The old shack above them was a write off when they finally emerged.

Walls were gone, the roof was barely hanging on, and there were still a few walkers that flocked to the opening of the cellar when Daryl pushed it open. He'd had to close the door quickly, motioning to Beth to push it open while he peaked his crossbow through and finished off the last few.

It was daylight as they emerged, and Beth felt the cold hands of panic grab onto her. "Daryl, she's probably so scared."

He instantly knew who she meant, and took a second to pull out a container he had been meaning to surprise Beth with when they got back. And it only took a second for her eyes to light up as he presented it to her.

"She's going to love it." Her eyes were a little glossy as she managed to create eye contact with him, and she didn't hesitate to give him a quick hug. The box of wet cat food would surely be appreciated, and she had to admit that it pulled at her heartstrings that Daryl would even think about carrying the extra weight when they had already gotten a bag of dry food.

"C'mon," he instructed, offering his hand. "Thing's probably starving."

She smiled, and didn't hesitate to grab the offered hand.

…

When they were almost back to the dock, Daryl trading out her hand to pull the tote box of splintered wood they'd gathered, while she held the two massive pots that she deemed perfect for boiling down salt water, Beth spoke up.

"Should we talk about it?" And Daryl only glanced at her for a second before she knew the answer to her own question. But she was used to his looks by now, and even though it would probably seem daunting to an onlooker, she knew what it meant. "Well, I mean, is this okay with you?"

He floundered for a full minute, and Beth could feel her heartbeat in her throat as she watched the emotions play over his face. She held her breathe until he shrugged, the demons that she could see and feel returning to somewhere deep within himself. "Just us anyways."

Beth smiled, and it only grew more as they came close enough to spot the untouched dory that they had left behind for their run.

"Ain't gonna be easy goin' back," Daryl admitted as they stepped foot onto the dock, desperately trying to push away what had just happened between them. He was uncomfortable with it all, yet he was weak. He was so weak when it came to her, and he couldn't tell her no.

Hell, he didn't _want_ to say no.

She looked at him with a questioning glance before her eyes darted all around them, and while she was naturally on guard he began to strategically place their things in the little dory that rocked with each movement.

"Goin' against the current this time. Heavier load." He didn't know much about boats or the ocean, but he knew enough to know that the current normally pushed towards the shore, and with the extra weight in the tiny dory, he was a little concerned about getting back out there.

She was quiet as she glanced around every few seconds, her right hand resting on the top of her knife. She was fully aware that they had been gone for a full day and night by now, and the cat hadn't been alone that long since they had rescued it. She could feel her panic rise every time she thought about it.

"Get in," he instructed, and he held onto the tiny rocking death trap as she gingerly climbed in. She grabbed onto the dock to keep it steady as he climbed in behind her, bracing his knees on the haul of the dory.

She made the mistake of looking in the water, and she was a little embarrassed that seeing the dead eyes looking back at her made her jump. There were about ten of them, all excitedly making a group at the bottom of the ocean floor, their hands outreached as if they could reach the dory floating above.

Beth shuttered. They'd have to get rid of them if they were going to continue to go on runs.

Daryl fumbled for a moment before he passed her the third oar, catching her eye for a moment. "Gonna need you to paddle too. Watch the arm."

Beth nodded, and Daryl had to look away because with the determination in her eyes, all he wanted to do was grab her and never let go.

…

The row back took a lot more energy and strength than either one of them had been anticipating.

The current was unforgiving, and Daryl almost had a moment of panic when the little dory began to travel away from the sandbar with the lighthouse. But Beth, she pushed on and discovered that while sitting in the back of the dory, she could steer with her paddle.

Although when they reached the shore to their new little home, Daryl couldn't say he wasn't relieved.

As soon as they were close enough to shore, Beth jumped the side of the dory, her feet splashing in the water as she made a mad dash for the little lighthouse. Daryl didn't question her, because as soon as he hauled the dory far enough out of the water, he was following behind her.

He would never admit it to Beth, but that damned cat had become a part of them.

When he reached the door and pushed through, he released a little breath at the sight that was before him. Beth was lying on the floor with the cat perched comfortably on her chest, petting its head softly as it nuzzled her face. The mews of content the cat was letting out was enough to know that everything had been fine while they had been away.

Walking back out to the shored dory, he felt the odd sensation of his lips wanting to upturn on their own.

…

The wet food that Daryl had thought to grab out of the pantry of some long forgotten house had been well received, and when Beth sat it down in front of the cat, their hours away had been forgiven.

They'd been back for a few hours by now at least, and Beth was still puttering around the little house, arranging all the supplies they had gathered. And he had to admit, the place was starting to look a lot less dreary than it had when they first arrived.

It was like this woman had the ability to bring the sun with her wherever she pleased.

 **TBC**

 **Thoughts?**


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note: I am honestly blown away from the response from chapter twelve! Thank you so much, to everyone who reviewed. Your feedback, of any kind is appreciated. This chapter is my personal favorite.**

 **Paint the Silence**

 **Chapter Thirteen**

Time went on, and so did life.

They adapted as well as they could, and learned to live without for the things that they couldn't figure out. Like canned food – all of which was now five years passed expiration – and the things that were once considered 'necessities', became obsolete.

They'd made two extra scavenging trips in addition to their first one, both proving to be a lot less dramatic than their initial one had been. They'd left the tiny little lighthouse for one night at a time, never leaving for too long in fear that others would stumble upon their tied little dory.

It was fishing supplies, sacks of flour, bags of sugar and an abundance of salt they were usually on the lookout for. None of it would last forever, but they had become very good at rationing. They'd filled their packs to the very brim both times, stuffing the extra weight onto their backs.

Tiny fishing village houses proved to be the jackpot for nonperishable items, and Beth's pack alone was almost filled with the pickle filled mason jars they had found. It was salt she was most persistent about finding, though, and Daryl had been the one to find the two massive bags of pickling salt in the porch of the kitchen with the canned mason jar pickles.

Beth had been so happy that she had rushed to examine the unopened bags, throwing an arm around his neck before a walkers groan had pulled him away.

The next jackpot had come after Beth had admittedly almost given up. It was getting close to sundown, and the thought of leaving the cat alone in the dark for the night bothered her down to her core. She'd almost dismissed joining in when Daryl opened the rickety door to the shed in the final house they had searched.

"Shit, Beth. C'mere." Daryl had called, and after a quick scan of the surrounding area, she came face to face with the long forgotten fishing rods, rope lines and oddly shaped fishing pots that were so obviously hand made.

They'd managed to get the huge assortment of poles stuffed into the side pocket of Daryl's pack, the straps hanging from the buckles made for a skateboard of all things, back in the old world. He'd hefted one of the pots over his shoulder, handing her the crossbow. It went without saying that they were heading back to the dory.

But it was the gardening center that they came across, that really helped their situation.

The gardening books is where they started first, along with the other little things they could manage to fit in their already stuffed packs. They couldn't take everything they wanted, and Beth was pretty upset about leaving behind the handheld gardening tools that happened to be a bright yellow, but it went without saying that they would be back.

And when they both decided that they had studied the books well enough, they had set out on their second trip.

With no surprise to Daryl, the first things Beth carefully placed in the bottom of her pack were the bright yellow gardening tools, along with two or three pairs of floral gloves for good measure. He'd snorted in laughter, but she had shrugged with a smile, no shame evident on her glowing face.

Seeds were a huge part of the haul, even if they took the least amount of space. Daryl had been the one to study what to grow, while she studied the way to make a garden flourish and how to prepare it. And he hadn't thought of Hershel in a long time, but her wistful looks at the farming books reminded him that he could never get too comfortable.

Not now, not ever. Not when he had _her_ to protect.

Potatoes, carrots, lettuce and cucumber seeds were what he had been searching for, and he had told Beth in a hushed tone on their journey here that those vegetables in particular thrived in sandy soil. It would be hard, and they would have to water them daily, but it may just work.

The tiny littler tiller that was made for someone of Beth's height was the last item they grabbed, before they went on a hunt for the last time for a while. Beth knew that it wouldn't be the first time that Daryl's skills had kept them fed, and she could hardly wait for the cool breeze to fade away so she could begin the garden – so she could contribute to keeping them alive and well.

Two squirrels and a rabbit later, and they were on the dory, that Daryl still wouldn't call anything but 'the death trap'.

…

Water was the first necessity, quite obviously.

And it was Beth that had been the one to successfully pull that one off, as Daryl has sat on a stool by the old stove, trying to desperately dry his boots that he had been sloshing around in the ocean with earlier. He'd been out all morning with his fishing rod casted, but he still hadn't been able to get one bite. He was cold, he was wet and he was frustrated.

But when Beth came to him with a steaming cup of water, her smile encompassing her tiny face, he couldn't help but feel his spirits lift. It only took a taste to know that it wasn't saltwater, and he let out a breath of disbelief as she squealed in delight, throwing both her arms around his neck.

He tried, dammit, he really did try to listen to her as she explained how she had used two pots to make the fresh water. How the smaller pot sat empty in the middle of the larger pot filled with seawater. About how when she put the cover on top and let the water boil, the condensation that collected in the empty smaller pot was safe to drink.

He tried, he did, but with her face tucked into his neck while she stood between his legs on the stool, he found it hard to breath.

…

As suspected, by the time the ground was ready to be tilled, the fish began to swim.

They'd woken one morning, her in the bed and him on the couch to the warm sun dancing across their faces. And after a breakfast of pickles fried in flower on the stove, they went out with the tiller and the bright yellow gardening tools.

He didn't really know squat about farming or gardening, hell no one he knew had even owned a garden growing up– if you didn't count Merle's pot a garden. He'd been the one to step into Rick's place when Lori had passed; time for farming back then had been nonexistent. But it was easy to tell that Beth was in her domain.

She was confident as she began to turn the Earth underneath her, and she was quick and precise while he fumbled and felt too large for the whole operation. It wasn't until she directed him with the tiller – the brunt of the physical work – did he begin to feel like maybe this could work.

It'd taken them a whole seven days to get the garden ready, according to the new calendar that Beth drew up monthly. They'd had to get rid of the grass, till the sandy soil, dig and form the mounds, plant the seeds, and Beth had sent Daryl out on the dory with a bag to collect leaves to make their own mulch.

Boiling down water to give the whole garden enough to begin to thrive was the hardest part, and Beth had a moment of panic as they were patiently waiting for the third pot to bring to a boil on the stove.

"What if this doesn't work? What will we do?"

The cat had plopped itself down in her lap, and he only shook his head in her direction before returning back outside. "It'll work."

…

Daryl quickly learned that if he wanted to catch any fish for that day, he needed to be up and in the water by the break of dawn.

He'd gotten a little more adventurous with this whole fishing thing, and he had a set of clothes specific for wading into the freezing waters. The further he went out, the more fish he snagged. His game bag became his fishing bag, and he'd plop the still wiggling fish into the bag on his back before he would cast out his line again.

It was all becoming normal, to catch their two meals a day with the long rods he had perfected to his own taste.

And just like he didn't believe in over cultivation of the land, he only took what they needed from the ocean. The first few months it had been excessive, he'd been out there every morning filling the bag. And no sooner would he dump the batch of fish in the sink, Beth would be filleting them, salting them and storing them in mason jars to pickle and brine. She would ask him to carry the jars out to the tower where it was the coldest, and he lined them on the winding staircase.

Now he only caught a few for fresh meals, of which Beth had figured out how to make fucking fishcakes in the damned apocalypse.

He'd come in that afternoon from the tower, petting the cat behind its ears as it rubbed up against his shins. The tiny little lighthouse smelled of fish like it usually did around meal times, but when he set eyes on Beth, he could tell that something was off.

She was crying, and he immediately went to her.

"S'wrong?" His voice had been rough, crackly from lack of use while he had been sitting in the tower keeping watch that afternoon. Panic had pricked his skin, awful images of past experiences floating across his vision.

Beth didn't say anything as she wordlessly scooped a tiny little patty out of the frying pan they had grabbed from a long forgotten home. She placed it on a plate she had waiting, handing if off to him with expectant eyes.

And when he took the very first bite, his eyes grew wide as saucers.

"Do you like it?" She asked, fluttering around to keep her nerves at bay. "I pulled the first potato out this morning, I thought maybe it could work?"

Daryl shook his head in absolute disbelief, before shoving the rest of the tiny patty in his mouth. It was delicious, it was a welcome change from their usual fish fried in flour, and it was a life changing moment for their time here in the little lighthouse. He knew that the tears had been good tears – happy tears.

"You're amazin', Beth."

And she kissed him for the third time, that day.

…

According to her own calendar, it was late July.

Their days consisted of tending to the garden, trying to figure out how in the world to use the fishing pot that they had brought back with them, and preserving food.

It was hard work, it was physical labor, but both of them never complained. Not when their bellies were full and they had so much. They had acquired more here than they could have even imagined back at the house on the cul-de-sac, and Beth was happy.

She was genuinely _happy_ for the first time since the apocalypse began.

Not fleeting moments of moonshine happiness, or moments when she caught Daryl glancing at her giddy happiness either. She was content – they were learning, yes, and they undoubtedly still had a lot of learning left to do, but what they had already accomplished was more than she could have ever hoped for.

It was piping hot in the tiny little lighthouse, will all the windows open wide and the fire on the stove burning to coals. Beads of sweat were pooling on her forehead and back, she could feel it. It was obscene to have a roaring fire going in the hottest times of the summer months, but it was necessary and Beth tried to remember how cold she'd been that first winter on the road – before the prison.

She needed to boil down water daily, although she had the claw foot tub almost filled with fresh water, she never wanted to go without. Not when their crops were in dire need of the daily nutrition in the blistering heat and the sandy soil.

They didn't need the tub to bathe – saltwater was still water. It was in the ocean that they washed themselves with the bars of soap they still had left, their dishes and their clothes. Everything, including themselves, were salty and white after a wash, but a tiny cup of fresh water would solve that problem along with prolonging their boiled water supply.

Things would change in the winter when it was too cold to bathe out there, but Beth decided that it could wait until then to figure out.

She was lying down on the tiny queen bed, a copy of _Withering Heights_ laid out in front of her as her mind wandered to new things she could make tomorrow for breakfast and dinner – the two meals they had every day. The garden was beginning to become plentiful, just as the pickling salt was coming to an end.

Beth smiled to herself, glancing at the sheet pans that were resting on the countertop, sitting directly in front of the window to catch the sun while it was up. On a whim, she had set out the leftovers from the boiling down of the salt water on pans, and she was beginning to think that she may be able to collect her own salt.

Life was magnificent, at the very moment.

And when Daryl walked in, the sun setting behind him as he closed the door from the tower where he had been keeping his regular evening watch, she couldn't help herself. Not when things had been going so great, with everything – with _them._

"All clear." He gave her what she would consider a smile before making his way to the sofa, before she stopped him.

"Why don't you lie down with me? You haven't had a good night's sleep in a while." And she could feel her cheeks flaming, and maybe the temperature spiked as well when he froze in spot, looking extremely conflicted with himself. She smiled, trying to convince him that it wasn't a big deal, even if her insides were bursting. "I promise I don't bite."

He was only conflicted for another moment before he grabbed his pillow and thin blanket from the couch, and she had to bite her lip to refrain the threatening smile that wanted to bloom on her face.

The bed shifted as he gingerly laid down, well aware that their bodies were extremely close but not touching, and glanced at her.

And hell, she couldn't control herself when she kissed him for the fourth time, that night.

 **TBC**

 **Yeah, this chapter is my favorite. Lots more where this came from, though.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note: Time jump. Thanks for everyone who is still with me!**

 **Paint the Silence**

 **Chapter Fourteen**

It was the dead of winter, once again.

Time flew by, and each month Beth safely tucked away a page of her notebook that she had made the month before. Counting days turned into counting months, and counting months had turned into counting seasons.

They had to go on one more run since their initial three, and it was back to the garden center to pick up a few things they hadn't thought to grab at first. Tiny clay pots that had survived the trip on the dory now lined the window sill in the tiny kitchen, filled with half sprouted herbs like chives, thyme and mint. Things that made their meals a little less bland, and their hot water a little tastier.

And of course, the usual pickling salt, flour and sugar was what they were really on the hunt for.

She'd grabbed some wheat and corn seeds, and planned to try out making her own flour this season if the crops would grow on the sandy soil they'd mulched themselves. That is, if she could find a coffee grinder that wasn't electric to make the actual flour. So far she'd come up empty. She pictured the rolling fields of the Greene farm full of wheat from her childhood, and she imagined the old machines that were stored in the barn for shelling and grinding – about how all those things had just been left behind.

Daryl had refilled the tote with wet wood from a forgotten shed that they now had sitting by the stove to dry out, and had also thrown half a dead tree in the little dory for kindling. It wouldn't be enough to last the bitter ocean winter, but it would be enough for another month or so.

It was pure luck that they had discovered the tiny little lighthouse in the winter months, and when the chill began to settle in once again, Beth had pulled out their winter numbers and blankets she had washed in the ocean, folded and stored in the only closet the lighthouse had to offer. They were a little crunchy from the wash in the saltwater, but they were warm and a quick dip in boiled down water helped immensely when the cold finally did make its reappearance.

There wasn't much to do in the winter, besides ration supplies and make their meals. She had been writing letters to Maggie and other people who she knew she would probably never see again; about how Daryl and she had gotten there, about their lives, what they were up to. Writing letters to them eased the pain in her heart, and kept her from driving herself insane during the winter months. She also kept a diligent diary on her crops for the year, adding and making more plans for next season, like her Daddy had always done when the farm had been active. Especially the animals, Hershel had documented almost everything about every cow he had ever owned, and she even started to document the meals she was giving to the cat.

Daryl had been spending more and more time up in the tower with nothing to do outside, and she suspected that his boredom had something to do with their current conversation.

"Daryl, we have everything we need right now."

He shifted on the bed, trying to act annoyed with her, but she knew different. Lying in bed together every night had become as part of their daily routine as boiling drinking water had.

"Nah, gotta stock up on more wood. Y'need flour too, remember?"

He was teasing her in his own way, and she let a snort of laughter pass. There was no awkwardness left between them, although the time they spent together was mostly platonic. They'd shared only three moments together, and they were all innocent and pure. They didn't go further than a quick peck, even though they had been sleeping beside one another since the early summer.

"God forbid you miss out on any fishcakes," she teased back, rolling over onto her side so she could get a better view of him. She had become so comfortable around this man, on this island that sometimes she was thrown back into the brick wall of reality; and it hurt.

Sometimes is was so easy to forget that anything had ever happened – that there were still walkers who claimed the majority of the world. That there were still bad people out there, possibly outnumbering the good.

And when Daryl mentioned going back out there, it hit close to home.

"Yeah, them fishcakes are somethin' else." He responded, staring up at the ceiling. Doing anything so he wouldn't catch the eye she was giving him – the upset eye. The look that almost brought him to his knees whenever it crossed her face.

They both missed a beat before Beth finally sighed. "I hate when we have to go out there. It's just… it's a reality check."

And Daryl nodded, allowing her to lift his arm and press herself against his side. He didn't even flinch at the movement, and it was just another reminder of how much he had changed since the prison had fallen and he had escaped with Beth.

He _needed_ to get back out there. He needed to remind himself that the world was definitely not all flowers, sunshine and Beth Greene.

…

That morning he awoke to the fire already roaring, and an empty bed.

Beth usually stayed under the covers until he had restocked the fire and fetched some ocean water to boil down on the old Home Comfort stove. She hated the winter months even more than he did, so when he glanced around the little lighthouse and didn't see her, he was on instant alert.

Just as he stood from the bed, his shirt and the only pair of pajama bottoms he owned mussed from sleeping, she entered with the large pot full of seawater. The cat followed closely behind her as it usually did, trotting to its dish were it waited patiently for Beth to place some chopped up brined fish.

"Hey," he greeted her, rubbing his eyes and going to the closet. They each had only four outfits – a working summer outfit, something to wear in the summer while not working, pajamas and a winter number. They only owned boots – of which they wore in the winter months and on runs. During the summer they went barefoot around the island, due to both heat and convenience.

He grabbed his sweater he had hung up the night before, pulling it over his head and then putting on his beloved vest on top of that. He wore shorts underneath his pajamas, of which he only owned two pairs, and slipped into the winter pants he had shed and hung up the night before. Their two pairs of socks and underwear looked worse for wear, and he decided that he'd search for some clothes on the run.

"Hey," she sighed, bringing the cast iron pan to the stovetop where the oil from last night's dinner began to sizzle and pop. He watched as she, still in her pajamas and sweater, threw some brined potatoes and carrots into the pan after a quick wash with fresh water. "It's mild out today."

He nodded, grabbing the little dipper and dipped it into the bucket of fresh water that they had begun to collect when the tub ran dry. They needed the tub to bathe in the winter – the water in the ocean was beyond freezing at this point. Plus, they only needed fresh water for drinking and food during the winter, as there were no crops to be watered daily.

"S'good. How's the water looking?"

And she knew that he meant how choppy did the water seem, and how windy it was because he planned on taking the dory out. The run – it was scheduled for today and the knot that formed in her stomach last night hadn't left.

She sighed again, grabbing the wooden spoon that had been hanging on the wall as a decoration when they arrived, stirring the slowly heating vegetables. "Not a breath of wind."

Daryl nodded again, grabbing two plates out of the four they owned, along with the two mugs that sat in the cupboard. He placed them in their usual settings, and then went to stir the salt Beth had sitting on sheet pans in front of the window. If they kept this up, they wouldn't need to find any pickling salt this summer for canning

He plucked a few mint leaves, putting them in their cups and crushing them with a spoon, like Beth had shown him how. He moved on autopilot, doing necessary things around the tiny lighthouse while the aroma of what she had on the stove engulfed his senses.

Just as she was dividing the meal on their two plates, he poured boiling fresh water into their mugs, the water steaming the leaves immediately. He set the pot of the fresh water in the tub to cool before they would add it to the bucket, and then strained the larger pot full of diluted saltwater with the little tool Beth called the 'sifter'.

He made quick work of spreading the liquid salt on the sheet pan, returning to the table just as Beth sat down in her own chair. The table was a tiny square with four chairs, and they sat across from each other, making eye contact before Beth cracked a little smile.

When her hand came across the table, he didn't hesitate to grab it and mirror her bowed head. "We thank You Lord, for all you give; the food we eat, the lives we live; and to our loved ones far away, please send your blessings, Lord we pray. Amen."

And when the prayer was over, she grabbed her cup and smiled at him over the brim of the steaming mint water.

…

Jade the cat was lying on Beth's stomach while she lazed on the couch for a moment – their bags packed for survival once again, their jackets and boots waiting by the door.

Daryl was up in the tower scanning the shore one last time before they would get into the dory and sail across – the current did most of the work on the way back to shore. The sun was just beginning to come fully overhead which meant that they needed to get moving.

The cat nuzzled her face, and she cuddled it in her arms as she stood, walking slowing to the bowl on the floor. It was always hard leaving, and trapping her poor baby inside until they got back. The cat had adapted well to the island, and with no posing danger Beth and Daryl let it roam freely.

In the summer she would be out batting at the gulls, and that was both good exercise for her and kept their plants safe. In the winter she'd follow Daryl out in the mornings to do her business before trotting back in where Beth would drop some fish in her bowl.

She was the perfect pet, and Beth always felt guilty for leaving.

As the cat began to eat its early second meal of the day, Beth went to the cupboards where she kept most of her dried things. Sacks of flour, sugar and salt stood out, but she grabbed for the container that was filled with dried lettuce leaves.

During the summer she had dried out more than ten heads of lettuce – most of the ones that grew she had used to make these chips. By removing the water, letting them bake in the Home Comfort stove with some sea salt sprinkled on top, they made for a good snack. The potatoes that they had managed to grow had to be used for other things, and when Beth decided to try the lettuce chips, she had been pleasantly surprised. They were beginning to become a bit stale, but neither of them complained about having chips in their lives again.

She filled an empty mason jar with the lettuce chips, sealing it tight before shoving it in the top of her pack. They weren't taking many of their rations on the trip, planning to be back before sundown, but these would be a backup just in case.

And then she added 'Mason Jars' on their list of things they wanted to grab if they could, because Beth wanted to expand the garden this year and that meant they would need more canning storage.

When the door opened she looked up, putting the note back in her jeans pocket as she went to grab her boots.

"About ready?" Daryl asked, grabbing the crossbow that permanently sat by the door, just in case. She watched as he slung it over his back before dipping the dipper in the bucket of fresh water for a drink, pouring the leftovers in the cats bowl.

When she had her boots on – the very ones that she still had from the farm era, she stood and nodded her head. She made her way over to him, standing in front of him. She let her arms fold around his torso on their own accord, placing the side of her head on his chest.

She smiled when his arms came around her, too.

 **TBC**

 **Thanks for reading! This was kind of a buildup chapter, stay tuned!**


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's Note: As promised.**

 **Paint the Silence**

 **Chapter Fifteen**

She was always quiet whenever they needed to face reality, but this time it was different.

"Y'okay?" He questioned as they tied the dory up at the dock, turning his head around to glance in every which direction. It had been quiet around this shore lately, and on his evening watches up in the tower, he hadn't seen much activity.

Too quiet.

"If one of us doesn't make it back, the other _has_ to go back for Jade."

He'd heard that same sentence every time they ventured over for a run, but it made his anger flare nonetheless. About how she could just talk about her demise so casually – how she could just assume he'd be able to go back for that damn cat if she didn't make it.

If she didn't make it, neither would he.

He didn't even look at her, let alone respond as he stood, walking off the dock and into the trees.

…

They went a different way than they had every other time, expanding their search for useful things – the things they needed.

The tote box was the first thing they filled, leaving it back on the dock for their return. Then they had hit a few close houses that they hadn't ventured in yet, and grabbed a few more bags of sugar, flour and salt.

Beth had even found a battery operated coffee grinder that would work well if she could get the grains to grow in the sandy soil – it wouldn't last forever but also had a detachable hand held churner that would work when the batteries ran out. The person who had lived in that particular house had obviously been a coffee fanatic.

And hell she could almost taste the coffee when she grabbed a can of instant, feeling a little selfish as she threw it in her pack.

Daryl had the frayed map Rick had given to him long ago in his hand, although nothing close to them was scouted out. He added to the map whenever he could, and maybe in the back of his mind he thought that he would someday return it to Rick.

So when they – literally – ran into Carl Grimes, Daryl wasn't so sure why he was shocked.

"Holy fucking shit!" Carl exclaimed when his frantic eyes settled on the pair, everyone sprawled out on the ground in surprise, his eyes wide and alive. He was tall – a lot taller than Daryl remembered him being. Lanky and long, like his father.

Daryl heard Beth take a sharp inhale beside him before she was laughing and crying all at the same time, pulling herself up and towards the boy in question. "Carl!"

But Daryl noticed that there was something wrong instantly, by the way Carl was glancing behind him, his breathing labored and harsh. And his hug to Beth was only half armed, before he was pushing them in the way that they had come.

"Herd, huge one. Gotta find somewhere."

And their reunion was cut impeccably short as the three took off, searching for somewhere to hide until the threats passed by. It was odd, too, to have someone other than Beth now on his radar. Where the hell was Rick and why was Carl out here by himself? Alexandria was at least over a week's walk away, or so he had thought.

It was an old van they took cover in, slamming the hatch doors behind them with a sickening thud that rang out loud. They all slumped against the side of the van, their breathing labored but controlled with practice. And it was probably only a moment later when the first dead body began to throw themselves against the van.

…

Beth was absolutely bursting by the end of the herd – which took way longer than anyone wanted it to, but Daryl was the first one to pipe up.

"Where's everyone else?"

Carl gulped, clearing his throat. Even his voice had changed so much since they had last seen Carl – and Beth realized that the little boy she had been imagining had completely become a man, with the hardships he had been put through.

"I – uh, I kind of took off." Carl explained, glancing nervously up at Daryl before shrugging his shoulders. "Got lost."

Daryl nodded, but from her spot beside him in the darkened van, Beth could tell he was planning something she knew she probably wouldn't like.

"Is… is she?" Beth trailed off, not allowing herself to even say that name of the sister she had all but abandoned. She could feel her stomach bouncing around in her throat, but then she felt a thousand times heavier when she remembered that Carl's mother was the reason she was so afraid of the answer.

"Maggie? She's okay, had a little boy." Carl revealed, stretching out his legs inside of the van. They all hadn't made a move for hours, so when Daryl finally opened the hatch and stood, their eyes puckered because of the sun and their knees were a little unsteady.

And that thought had tears streaming down Beth's face.

"Shit, when Dad told me you two were still out here on your own I almost didn't believe it." Carl piped up, shaking his head in disbelief as he took in the two of them again. The ratty sheriff's hat was still proudly sat on his head, and everything seemed a little surreal to Beth.

"Was… was anyone mad?" Beth questioned, which earned a narrow eyed glance from Daryl as he nodded his head back towards the way they'd come. He began walking, and without asking Beth knew that they were taking Carl back to the lighthouse.

"Nah." He shook his head, following after the pair as they began to walk. It may have been years since Carl had seen either of them, but he followed with full trust. "Everyone was happy you made it out of the prison, glad Daryl was with you."

Beth didn't miss for a second that no one questioned if Daryl had made it out. "And… and the baby is okay?"

Carl nodded again. "Healthy, we didn't need to search for formula."

The faraway look in his eye made Beth's own heart hurt – she had been good friends with Lori. Had spent many of mornings with the Grimes' woman, washing, cleaning, and cooking. Passing time while they waited for the unknown, back then. And knew that no amount of pain she felt, would ever amount to Carl's.

"What did she name him?" Beth asked, pushing the limits of her own sanity. She grabbed for Daryl's hand, and noticed the surprised look that Carl shot them, but she didn't care.

"Glenn."

Daryl's hand squeezed hers.

…

By the time that they reached the dock, they had learned about what had been going on the past few years with their family.

The baby was probably around two, Judith was by now at least five, and Beth had sobbed at the very mention of her name. They learned more members of their family had made it too – like Carol, who Beth noticed with satisfaction that Daryl breathed a sigh of relief with closed eyes. Rick, Michonne, and when Carl mentioned Morgan, Daryl actually let a puff of air passed his lips in a laugh.

Turns out this Negan character, who they had left their house on the cul-de-sac for, had terrorized the people at Alexandria for most of the past year. More people had died, everyone had suffered, and people had changed. Alexandria had been on the brink of starvation and disease until someone had made a life changing decision.

Carl explained that it had been Maggie to finally snap.

Negan had been leaning over the newborns crib, baseball bat in hand, taunting the unknowing child on his father's death. And Maggie, she shot him point blank with Daddy's pistol she had hidden since the very beginning.

And it was like all of a sudden they were free again. Everyone else at the Sanctuary was 'easily dealt with' after Negan was gone, in Carl's words which made Beth's stomach churn in discomfort. Carl may have been extremely young when this whole thing began, but she wondered what really happened to her friends to make him so nonchalant about killing.

"So uh, you guys seriously live over there?" Carl asked as Daryl started strategically placing their run items in the tiny little death trap. Beth pulled the tote attached to some rope closer so Daryl could grab it, and then stood to look at Carl.

"We're going to need you to get in first, okay? I promise everything will be fine." Beth encouraged him, and when Daryl kneeled down to hold the dory steady, she did too.

Carl only hesitated for a moment, before sighing and shakily curling into a ball on the bottom of the dory, directly in the middle of their two packs as they instructed him to. Once he was in, he let out a chuckle. "This is a new one."

It was the usual struggle to get back to the lighthouse island, and Daryl watched on as the kid hung onto the sides of the tipsy dory for all he was worth. Carl was full of nerves, and let out an audible breath as Beth put her foot out when they reached the island, connecting with the sandy bottom below.

Beth could see the amazement in Carl's face as he glanced up at the historic lighthouse, the light ocean spray coming from the gaining winds. "Woah."

Beth went first to see the cat. Jade, who had been alone for only twelve hours tops, greeted her like she had been gone for years. She didn't hesitate to pick her up, cradling the purring thing in her arms.

She caught Carl's eye, as he entered the tiny little house part they resided in. Disbelief was written all over his expressions and body language.

Beth placed the cat by her bowl, going to the tower stairs to open a new bottle of pickled mackerel. Along with that she grabbed a new bottle of potatoes even though she already had a half bottle that she grabbed too. And just before she turned around she grabbed a bottle of carrots, because God only knew how long it had been since Carl had eaten.

…

When Daryl got the Home Comfort stove going, it heated the little room quickly.

The chill was instantly gone as the pair of them began their regular evening chores. Beth got the leftover pan oil sizzling on the cast iron pan, while she washed down the vegetables and fish with fresh water. Daryl went to fetch a pot of salt water to throw on the stove to boil, before he began to set the table.

Carl stood on, feeling majorly out of place.

"Need me to do anything guys?" He asked, putting his almost empty pack on the couch, where he assumed he would be sleeping. Seeing all the blankets on the bed together was enough of a hint, even if they were going to hide this from him tonight.

He was thankful he'd ran into them – tonight would have been a hungry one, otherwise.

"Sure." Beth piped up as she carefully tended to the pan. Cooking on fire was tricky, even if the stove was the best thing she had seen since the fall of the prison. "You can go into that bag right there, and grab the jar full of chips."

"Chips?" Carl immediately responded, and actually laughed when Daryl threw it over to him, and motioned for him to sit on the floral couch. And he didn't argue, sitting and opening the lid of the jar. The first one he plopped in his mouth had him nodding. "These are amazing, what are they?"

"Lettuce chips." Beth replied, smiling in Daryl's direction as he emptied both their packs on the counter top, seemingly lining things up so she could store them how she wanted. She showed Carl the stove that she so dearly loved by opening the oven door. "Baked lettuce leaves, a bit of sea salt and stored in a sealed jar."

"This is crazy," Carl revealed, leaning his back against the couch, eyes glancing around. To him, Beth and Daryl had been polar opposites. He had never even witnessed them interacting during their time together at the prison, let alone working together in this precise machine kind of way. It was weird, to say the least.

And of course the fucking cat. Who really had a pet cat in the apocalypse? He hadn't even seen one since he could remember, domestic pets a thing of the past. And yet, here were these two, untouched from the outside world it seemed.

Carl had to push his jealousy away.

"We've been here for about," Beth trailed off, leaving the sizzling pan on the stove to walk over to the wall where a piece of paper had been tacked up. The smells that were beginning to fill the whole of the lighthouse was making Carl's stomach growl with impatience. "Ten months."

Daryl watched on as Beth tended to the stove, conversing with Carl and lovingly swatting at the cat as it played around her ankles.

She was something else, but there were other things that he needed to take care of.

…

Carl gulped down the mint water in one swig, when grace was finished.

"This looks so good, shit Beth." He exclaimed as he began to shovel the food in. Beth and Daryl watched on soundlessly as they picked at their own plates. They didn't waste food – not when they both worked so hard to have it. But neither had appetites as they sat in silence, the crackling of the fire inside the stove the only sound.

"They know where you're at?" Daryl finally asked the question, the one that everyone had been avoiding since they began to pretend everything was okay. Beth stopped rolling a potato chunk on her plate, full attention on what the answer was going to be.

Carl visibly stiffened.

"I told Dad I was going to Hilltop." He admitted, and when the confused looks he was presented with, he knew he had more explaining to do. "It's another large community that Negan was taking from. Maggie runs it, actually."

Beth's eyebrows shot up; that had been a fact that Carl hadn't mentioned in the beginning.

"So why ain't you at Hilltop, then?" Daryl asked, his eyes narrowing and his arms crossing on the table top. Beth watched on silently as Carl squirmed before sighing.

"I _did_ go to Hilltop – I just, I wanted to get away for a little bit." He explained, in all seriousness. He sounded apologetic, knew that there would be people worried sick about his disappearance. "And then I got lost, and just kept walking until I met that herd."

Daryl nodded, but didn't say anything as Beth watched on.

…

Carl was snoring on the couch, the cat was sleeping soundly on the end of the bed, and all the candles were blown out.

Beth knew where Daryl was, and she gulped down her own fears as she grabbed a blanket and one of their solar paneled garden lights to guide her up the winding staircase of the tower. She'd never ventured up here in the ten months that they had called the lighthouse home, but she needed to talk to Daryl in private.

And only when her foot hit the top rug of the stair case, did she let herself breathe.

It was dark up here, and even though the huge mirror freaked her out, she immediately sought Daryl out. He was sat on the bench he had borrowed from the kitchen, the moon and stars illuminating his features as she made her way over to him.

He didn't turn his head to look at her as she sat beside him, the tiny bench creaking under the extra weight. His vision was focused on the few walkers that aimlessly wandered on the far side of the shore, the water protecting them from anything knocking at their door.

Beth spread the blanket over both of their legs, the chill of the ocean seeping through the uninsulated concrete tower. It was quiet, and all that could be heard was their breathing and the waves.

"Takin' him back tomorrow," Daryl finally interrupted the silence, glancing at her for only a second. Her pale skin glowed in the moonlight, her blond hair almost white. And not for the first time, he was reminded that Beth should be living somewhere like Alexandria or Hilltop so she could meet boys like Carl – have the life she had always dreamed about. "Be easier if we didn't come back."

Anger and hurt flashed through her all at once.

"You can leave, Daryl Dixon, but I'm staying right here." And when she dared to look at him, his head was bowed and his face was blank. He was shutting down right in front of her, and her heart felt like it would fall out of her mouth at any given second.

"You deserve better'n this, Beth!" He snapped, his hands clenching together as he threw the blanket off of him. "They've got power, running water, food – you heard him."

She didn't mean to make him jump when she grabbed his thigh and squeezed, but when she caught his eye she refused to let him look away. "I love this little home we've built. Please don't say that."

Relief flooded her system as his shoulders slumped, conversation dropped all together.

 **TBC**

 **Thoughts? Thanks for reading!**


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Note: How is everyone liking this story so far? Would love to hear your input/what you think will happen!**

 **Paint the Silence**

 **Chapter Sixteen**

When Beth woke that morning, Carl could still be heard snoring, but Daryl was nowhere to be seen.

And it sort of hurt, to feel the cold sheets and the unturned covers on his side. Had everything between them just been a fragment of her own imagination? Had she been pushing Daryl to do things that he never wanted to do?

Not even the cat made her smile as it crawled to her neck, nuzzling her face.

She went through her morning routine quietly, getting the cat fed first before she went outside to fetch a pot full of water to put on the fire she'd just got going. The cat trotted out with her, instantly tearing off in the sand towards the figure by the water's edge.

Daryl was crouched over something, and when the cat playfully bounced off him, he looked behind him at her. He called her over, petting the cat on the head. "C'mere."

And the sight made her pause.

She hadn't even been aware that Daryl was still messing around with the pots that had been in the old fishing shack, but here he was. Two little lobsters crawling around in the landed pot, the sopping rope coiled in a pile on the sand.

"Oh my gosh!"

…

When Carl woke, he jolted in confusion.

Then he remembered yesterday, and running into Beth and Daryl. He took in his surroundings while stretching, noticing that chores had gone on while he slept. He hadn't slept that well in a long while – exhaustion hadn't been at the forefront anymore while living within Alexandria's walls. But then he felt guilty, because being on the road hadn't been fun to begin with.

He peered over the back of the couch, Beth and Daryl both standing in the kitchen. They stood over the sink, and while Carl was well aware that it wasn't nice to spy, he noticed they were in a trance as they both stared at the sink.

"We can have fresh meat in the winter," Beth gushed, grabbing Daryl's arm, and even from his spot on the couch Carl could see the way Beth's eyes were shining while looking up at the surely redneck. "How long have you been trying?"

Daryl shrugged. "Since summer. Must be a seasonal thing."

Beth hugged Daryl, her arms latching around his torso, her face pressed comfortably into his chest. But what really shocked Carl, was when Daryl's arms slowly circled around her as well. And hell when Beth stood on her toes, lips grazing Daryl's, Carl laid back down on the couch with wide eyes.

Everything was different.

…

Carl laid on the couch pretending to sleep until Beth gently shook him.

"Breakfast is ready." She smiled, stepping away and allowing him to wake up while she went back to the stove. She'd boiled the lobsters, covering her ears as they hissed in protest. And when they were boiled, she'd gotten Daryl to crack the shells while she started collecting the meat in a bowl.

The table was set, seared carrots and potatoes divided three ways on their plates, a bowl full of fluffy meat in the middle. And when Beth poured steaming water into their mugs, the muted smell of coffee filled the small room.

And Carl didn't mind a bit as Beth said grace, because when she scooped some meat onto their plates, he dug in.

It was a quiet meal as they all cleaned their plates, the cat catching a few extras under the table from both Beth and Daryl, when the other wasn't looking. Carl found it endearing – found himself thinking of Enid more and more as he watched the two interact.

It was Beth who eventually broke the silence, finishing her cup of coffee and allowing the cat to sit contentedly in her lap. "We're going to go with you, back to Alexandria."

Carl nodded, finishing off the last potato that Beth had seasoned with chives and green onions she had growing on the window sill. "We should go to Hilltop first. That's where Maggie is."

Beth's heart clenched, but she nodded.

…

"How long is this going to take?" Beth asked Daryl as they stepped outside into the cold air, their bags packed and ready. Carl needed to relieve himself, and with the toilet in the middle of the room, they gave him some privacy.

"Thought it was about a week's walk," Daryl admitted, strategically placing their packs around the shored dory. They always made sure to pull it up far away from the water, and even tied it to a rung on the lighthouse stairs to make sure they would never be stranded. "Probably take us about two."

"What about Jade?" Was the first question. An important one at that, because she hadn't even left yet and she already felt the grip of anxiety on her shoulders.

Daryl looked up at her, her worried expression making him frown. "We still got some dry food, we'll put out a couple bowls of food and water – put some sand in the box for it. Cat is tough, Beth."

She sighed. "I know, but I worry."

And of course he knew that first hand – but he also knew that this was something they both needed to do.

…

Carl had to admit, when his feet hit the solid ground again he wasn't so sure he'd ever return to the lighthouse on the island.

Beth had giggled at him when he had raced to the woods, his face an almost green shade. That morning's rich breakfast hadn't stood a chance against the rocking waves of the ocean, and he smiled in gratitude as Daryl chucked him a Mason jar full of water.

And then they were off.

Even though Carl pointed out specific landmarks he recognized occasionally, it was Daryl who led them. Following their own tracks back to where they had ran into Carl, and then following the mess of herd tracks that had been chasing Carl.

Carl watched the two of them as he travelled with them, how they interacted with each other – how they worked together like a well-greased machine. How they went about setting up camp when dark just began to fall, or how Daryl would disappear while Beth got low embers going, only to return with some skinned animal hanging over his shoulder.

How they kept him out of the watch schedule, how they were used to surviving with only each other. How Beth would lay her head in Daryl's lap when they both thought that he was asleep.

So when they finally reached the slope to Hilltop, Carl couldn't say that he was sad.

…

Daryl was relieved that the people manning the gate instantly recognized Carl.

And then people were scrambling and the wide wooden gates opened with a loud creaking noise, shuffling on the other side of the gate heard as a _very_ familiar voice called out. "Carl! Your Dad has a whole search party out for –"

Beth dropped everything she was holding, at the sight of her sister.

Maggie Rhee stood there, looking like she had just seen a ghost. The baby on her hip had his fists in his mouth, the babbling child the only one who dared to move or talk. Tears pooled in her eyes as she took the first step towards her baby sister, but Beth beat her to the chase.

Everyone in the community stopped what they were doing, glancing at the scene unfolding.

Beth was careful to not squish the child as she latched onto her older sister, the pair letting out an eerily similar squeak at the embrace. They seemed to be in a conversation that no one else could understand, muffed words and tear filled voices as they clung to one another for a long time, Beth patting the child's head as she laughed through her tears.

Maggie didn't hesitate to pass the child over to Beth's arms, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her sister's ear, disbelief written all over her face. "I almost didn't believe it. Beth, I'm so happy you're here."

Beth's laugh was watery as the baby, who resembled his father immensely, grabbed at her long ponytail. "Me too, Maggie. Me too"

…

The sisters were inseparable for the next few hours as they got reacquainted, and Beth sent Daryl an apologetic look as her sister beckoned her up the stairs, her nephew still in her arms. "C'mon Bethy, let's go upstairs."

But Daryl didn't mind, as Carol had bounded in through the doors, catching sight of him, crying and grabbing onto him.

His own emotions threatened to overflow as he hugged the older woman back, the familiar face one that he was genuinely happy to see. And then she'd turned to Beth, pulling her in the same strong embrace just as Beth took the first step towards the stairs.

"Gosh you two," she laughed, swiping at her own tears. "You need to visit more often."

The comment, though harmless, stuck a nerve within Daryl as he watched Beth follow Maggie up the staircase. He understood, he understood completely – but it felt odd to not have her with him even if he knew they were only a floor away – he spent most evenings up in the tower for Christ sakes. He felt out of place as he looked around, with the dirt and walker gunk, in the pristine grand entrance of the colonial home.

"Heard it wasn't safe 'til now." He retorted, catching the flash of darkness that passed over Carol's face as he followed her to the kitchen, where she promptly began to pull things out of the refrigerator. Eggs, bread, milk; all things that they had learned to live without on their island.

And that thought had him reeling. _Their island._

"Yes," Carol agreed, as he sat at one of the many barstools at the end of the huge kitchen island. "We've all gone through some terrible things."

He watched as she moved around the kitchen with ease – a telltale sign that she had been here for quite some time. He watched as she went through a huge ordeal of making him a sandwich, picking off meat of what Daryl was almost positive was a turkey.

"So," Carol began, turning her knowing eye on to him. "Tell me everything."

And when she placed the turkey sandwich down in front of him, cranberry sauce running off the stuffed to the brim sandwich, he didn't have the heart to tell her he would have preferred Beth's salt fish and pickled potatoes.

…

Beth caught the bag of chocolate her sister threw her way, holding it to her chest in amazement.

"I know it's your favorite." Maggie whispered, putting the sleeping baby in the crib that was directly beside the huge king sized bed. Beth gingerly sat on the edge, suddenly very aware that she felt extremely dirty and unkempt.

Her sister noticed, though, and gave Beth a small smile as she handed over a plush housecoat. She shed the clothes she'd been travelling in since they had left the lighthouse with Carl, snuggling into the warmth of the oversized number.

"So you're like… the leader." Beth stated as she climbed on the bed after her sister, where the eldest of the two tucked them in.

"Yeah, I took over when Gregory was killed." Maggie nodded, glancing back at the baby who slept in the crib every so often – like he may just vanish. And that was a reminder of what was _really_ hanging in the air between the sisters – the elephant in the room per say.

It was Maggie who first cracked, turning to her sister with watery eyes.

"Glenn, he – he…" Maggie trailed off, her crying nothing but muffled sob as Beth threw her arms around her sister, pulling her close. She cried for a few minutes, Beth shedding her own tears of grievance as she held her sister.

She knew Maggie her whole life, and she was not a bit surprised as her oldest sister pulled back, wiping her face harshly and began to apologize. "It's been forever, and I'm still not nearly over it."

Beth rubbed her sisters back as they separated from their hug. "It hasn't been forever, and you're allowed to grieve, Maggie. You _should_ grieve."

"The last thing he said to me, was that he would find me." She rubbed her sunken eyes, full attention on her sister. At that moment, Beth almost couldn't recognize the sister who had always been so full of fire, so full of life.

Beth paused for a moment, before softly taking her sister's hand. "He's keeping Daddy company."

And that set the waterworks off with both girls again.

…

When Maggie drifted off to sleep, Beth made sure the child was still fast asleep before she tiptoed out of the room.

It was dark – the two sisters had spent the majority of the evening talking and reminiscing. About Glenn, about the prison, and their parents and their brother – the farm. They talked about their time apart – Maggie apologized profusely for not looking for her immediately after the prison. And Beth had to admit, she certainly wouldn't have bet on herself, either. Beth apologized for disappearing when Rick told them how bad it was, and Maggie had grabbed her hand and swore she was thankful her little sister didn't have to go through Negan's torture.

Things were cleared up, actions were forgiven.

And she loved spending time with her sister – really she did. But there was a huge part of her that felt like it was missing, and she knew exactly what, or who was missing.

She only stumbled in the dark for a moment before she found the staircase that she had followed Maggie up, and went directly for the outside door of the mansion. If she knew Daryl at all, she knew that he would never be able to sleep in a place like this.

And neither could she. Not when she couldn't hear the crashing of the waves surrounding her or feel the heat coming from the body lying next to her.

So the first place she visited was the watch tower, and just as she suspected, Daryl sat with his crossbow in his lap, eyes scanning the surrounding fields. She smiled, not hesitating to curl up beside him, admittedly keeping the distance between them small.

"Hey," he whispered, glancing at her face to notice it was still a little red. "Y'okay?"

Beth smiled, catching his eye. "I am now."

Daryl gave her what she would be considered a smile back.

 **TBC**

 **Thoughts?**


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's Note: I didn't want to post this chapter because lately I've been feeling that my writing hasn't reflected my best work. I go through these stages, but decided to push through it regardless.**

 **Paint the Silence**

 **Chapter Seventeen**

Two full days had passed before Beth pulled Daryl into an empty room.

"I want to go home." She told him, tears threatening to fall as she wondered if Jade was okay, if anyone had taken their dory, thought about the herb pots in the kitchen that most likely were beginning to wilt. About how the halve jars of food that she had opened the morning they left, were sitting there going bad. She had grabbed onto the labels of his leather vest, pulling herself in close to him.

"Yeah." He nodded. "Yeah, me too."

…

It was the evening of the third day, and they had broken the news that tomorrow they were going to be returning to the little lighthouse that they had described a million times to anyone who had asked.

Carl had vouched for most of it, and even Rick, who had angrily shown up to Hilltop with Michonne in tow looking for him, had smiled briefly at his son with his animated descriptions about the dory ride.

Beth had gone with Maggie on a walk, bringing the Rhee toddler with them, and Daryl was sitting in the kitchen with Rick. They were alone for the first time since the reunion, where Rick had grabbed Daryl and thanked him profusely for bringing Carl back.

It was then that Daryl pulled the frayed map from his pocket, pushing it across the countertop to Rick. "Figured I'd give it back someday."

Rick opened the map, the smallest smile tugging at his lips. Daryl was relieved to find his old friend back to his normal self – or whatever normal was nowadays. He wasn't the same hollow man who he'd ran into while hunting, back when they lived only twenty minutes away from each other without knowing. Was pleasantly surprised to see his friend with Michonne; he'd always been fond of her.

"Means a lot, brother. More than you know." Rick nodded, folding it over and shoving it back across the countertop. "I think you need it more, though."

Daryl nodded, pocketing the map all over again.

…

"So, I have to finally ask." Maggie laughed, passing the baby over to Beth when he threw his arms out towards the blonde. "What's going on with you and Dixon?"

Beth laughed nervously, patting the back of the child who instantly grabbed for her ponytail. She truly loved her sister, yet talking about even the most innocent of things behind Daryl's back, made her feel oddly guilty. "I'm not sure, honestly."

Maggie sighed while she glanced sadly at her child's face, who so closely resembled Glenn that it hurt. "Whatever it is – it can all be gone in a second."

Beth didn't need to be told that – not when she had already lost so many people. But one glance at her sister's face, the sunken cheeks and the dull green eyes, made her realize that Glenn had been different from everyone else to Maggie.

And Daryl, he was different for Beth too.

"He's… he's everything." Beth revealed, the truth slipping through her lips before she had time to correct herself. But she wasn't ashamed as she glanced at Maggie, who had every right in this world to be hostile, but smiled a wide smile at her.

"I can tell." Maggie nodded, smiling softly at the child that was cuddling contentedly in Beth's arms, hand still lazily tangled in her blonde ponytail as they continued their walk around the Hilltop walls. "He looks at you the same way, you know."

Beth's gaze snapped to look at her sister. It had been just been her and Daryl for so long, she had kind of forgotten what girl talk was like. What it felt like to talk about her emotions, boys. Having Maggie back in her life, plus the little one, made her heart swell with love.

"Does he?" Beth questioned, and suddenly regretted the direction of this conversation as she glanced into her sister's darkened eyes.

"He does. He looks at you the same way I looked at Glenn."

…

It was a fitful night.

The moon was almost halfway up, and her eyelids felt like they were taped open. Maggie was softly snoring beside her, the baby also fully out in the crib beside her. The only thing she could think about was their conversation from earlier that day, and the idea of Glenn's demise was haunting her.

Every time she closed her eyes, Daryl was the one who was dying in every sort of way her wild imagination would conjure up.

But these past few days, while around their family again, it was easy to see why they had never interacted before. Easy to see how different their worlds had been before the fall of the prison. Beth hated it – hated the very thought of never getting to know Daryl the way she believed she did now.

And that thought was absurd because she had lost her father on the same day they had lost the prison.

Slipping from the covers, and making sure the door was clicked shut behind her, she ventured to the room he had been given here. It was only a few doors down from Maggie's, and she slipped inside the pitch dark room without a second thought.

He was in bed, but she instantly knew that he wasn't sleeping. The breathing wasn't there, like it was when he was in slumber. So she whispered. "Hey."

"Hey." He responded, and she followed the sound of his voice, and the rustle of the blankets as he resituated himself to accompany her. And if he felt awkward about any of it, his body language didn't show it as she burrowed into her favorite spot – the junction between his shoulder and neck.

Her vision slowly came to her, and she smiled as she wrapped an arm around his torso. This exact position had become the norm in the lighthouse, but here at Hilltop it felt forbidden and daring. "I couldn't sleep. Too excited to get home."

"Me either." He agreed, wrapping his arm completely around her. He was going to hell, but dammit he didn't care when Beth Greene was wrapped around him like this, telling him that she wanted to go back to their _home_.

Beth closed her eyes, breathing in his scent. Suddenly, she felt exhausted.

…

That morning, Maggie was coming out of her bedroom with the baby in her arms, the same time they both exited Daryl's room.

She felt Daryl go rigid behind her, his spine stiffening. And she stored that information in the back of her mind, because why was he so worried about what other people thought? They'd been by themselves for too long now, to be ashamed to be around one another.

But she couldn't say she didn't feel her face flame with heat.

Maggie only smiled at the pair, motioning with a nod of her head to follow her down the stairs and into the kitchen, where she placed the babbling toddler into the highchair that sat beside the kitchen island.

Beth and Daryl sat at the island while Maggie pulled out items from the fridge, and every time the light shone from the fridge, it startled Beth all over again. It made her think of the cool concrete tower where they stored all their food – they'd learned to live without a fridge.

"So," Maggie began as she cracked the first egg on the skillet, the crackling of fat ringing throughout the large kitchen. "When can I visit this infamous lighthouse?

Daryl watched as Beth immediately perked up. "Really, Maggie?"

"Sure." Maggie nodded, passing a bottle of water over to the toddler who beat it off his highchair a few times, before sticking it in his mouth. "I would love to."

Beth looked to Daryl who thought about it for a moment. There was no way in hell that Maggie, albeit he knew she wasn't one to fuck around with, was making the weeks walk to the lighthouse with just the toddler; not on his watch. That little baby was Glenn's legacy – and he intended to protect that for all he was worth.

"Two weeks – I'll come back to get you." Daryl replied, trying and failing miserably to avert his eyes from Beth's beaming gaze.

Maggie smiled as well, putting their plates of fresh scrambled eggs down in front of them. "It's a date."

…

"Hey there," Carol caught Daryl just as he was about to run upstairs to get both their packs. It was still early morning, and the only people who were awake were that of the family. The ones who would see them off, the ones who had to return to Alexandria. "Have you had something to eat?"

He nodded, motioning his head towards the kitchen where Maggie and Beth still sat talking over their plates of food. Daryl never could understand how it took Beth so long to eat, but he was taking advantage of being able to leave the table. He'd only gotten up from the table once before Beth was finished eating, back at the house on the cul-de-sac, and hell he wasn't stupid enough to do that again.

Carol smiled, and sat down on the staircase. And it may have been awhile since they were all one big group, but Daryl had enough sense to sit down beside the woman. Could tell she wanted to talk about something.

"I see you two have grown pretty close." Carol stated, but when Daryl searched her face for disgust, or even disbelief – he couldn't find any. Only the small, knowing smile that she allowed herself. A smile that was entirely Carol, but made Daryl sink into himself all the same. He didn't say anything. What could he say? He hung his head, his hair putting a curtain between them.

"Oh lighten up." Carol swatted at him lightly, chuckling. "She's good for you."

He glanced up at her, eyes narrowed. "How?"

Carol only smiled, standing and making her way towards the kitchen where the sisters could be heard cooing over the child. "I think you know, pookie."

…

Saying goodbye was never easy, but this time when the family parted ways, there were many promises of seeing each other again.

Maggie had handed Beth a sixty package box of powdered milk, and the blonde had never pictured crying over something like powered milk before, but she had. She had grabbed her sister in a tight embrace before stuffing the box in her pack – already dreaming up recipes that she could make back at the lighthouse.

Carol embraced them both, holding onto Daryl for a beat longer, before he accepted the two cookies she had wrapped in cloth and handed to him.

Rick, Carl and Michonne walked with them until the split in the road came – one direction would take them back to Alexandria, the other would eventually lead to the ocean.

"Be careful, now." Rick told them as he loosely hugged Beth – the departure a completely different feeling than it had been when Rick had been leaving the house on the cul-de-sac. "And if you ever need anything, you know where we are."

Daryl nodded, grateful to have his friend back.

…

Beth was sure that this was the longest walk she had ever been on, as ridiculous as that thought was.

Every night they stopped to set up camp – like they had done since the beginning of this whole thing, she felt her heart long for the lighthouse a little more. Made her heart long for the poor cat, who must be so afraid and hungry by now.

Daryl reminded her that they had left out four food bowls and four water bowls, but to Beth it seemed like they had been gone for an eternity.

She hated being on the mainland where walkers seemed to appear out of thin air. She hated that one of them always had to be on watch – hated the dark circles that ringed Daryl's eyes as he refused to get more than a few hours of sleep. Hated the nightmares that plagued her own thoughts – the real life memories of Joe and his cronies, and whoever those Grady people were who tried to snatch her up.

But she didn't dare complain. Not when she knew that things could be – and had been – so much worse.

They were setting up camp, going through their usual routine. She was stringing up their noise catchers while he was off in the close distance scouting out a meal. The weather was beginning to warm once again, the creatures beginning to crawl, and she could hardly wait to till the sandy garden. Could hardly wait to give the garden a second go – she had learned so much just that first summer and she planned to expand as much as she could this year.

The bushes rustled, and the groans of the dead filled her senses. It ambled over to her, and Beth had to blink hard. As time went on, the further decayed the walkers seemed to become. She gulped, lifting her knife to make a quick kill, but was cut short when the walker fell right in front of her.

"Left arm, 'member?"

She sighed, giving Daryl a small smile. She couldn't wait to be home.

 **TBC**

 **Thoughts?**


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's Note: I just want to thank every follower, subscriber and reviewer– I honestly wish I had the time to respond to you all individually, but I hope you know how much I truly appreciate your support. This story has quickly become my favorite to write for, by far, and I can't wait to see where it goes.**

 **Paint the Silence**

 **Chapter Eighteen**

Seeing that damn lighthouse on the horizon was enough to bring tears to her eyes.

The tote that they had filled with sticks and wood for kindling was sitting there, untouched. The dory was still tied in place where they had left it, and the ocean was calm. There were no whitecaps, and the wind was only just a breeze.

She let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

"Here," Daryl passed her the crossbow as they came over the embankment that lead to the ocean. He grabbed the tote full of wood, pulling that behind them towards the dock. And she smiled, because she remembered a time where no one was allowed to touch his prized possession.

It took them no time to get the dory geared up and ready, and when Beth looked in the water, she wasn't startled over the glowing yellow eyes staring back.

…

The cat was fed, and they were working on chores.

She was working on dinner, while Daryl puttered around the tiny space doing the necessary things. Boiling down water, watering all the little herb pots along the window sill, and storing away the dried sea salt on the sheet pans.

He set the table just as she threw in one of the milk packets that Maggie had given to her into the pot – and she knew that this seafood chowder was just a trial run, but she thought it looked pretty good. Plus, maybe next time she would have lobster to put in it.

Supplies were running low. She had counted only five bottles of potatoes, three of carrots and only two of the salt fish she had prepared last September – the empty Mason Jars lining the stairwell. And the pickles had been long gone by now, just a distant memory. The changing seasons flew by, and Beth had the notion that she would begin to prepare the garden as early as tomorrow.

The chowder would last them at least three meals, and as she dished them up two bowls, she couldn't help but feel her stomach do a flip. If this hadn't turned out the way she was hoping, the next few meals would be pretty bland.

Daryl was just pouring steaming water into their mugs where he had crushed some mint leaves, when Beth put the bowls on the tiny table. They sat, going through the routine that no amount of time at Hilltop or Alexandria could ever erase.

He grabbed her hand when she offered it.

"We thank You Lord, for all you give; the food we eat, the lives we live; and to our loved ones far away, please send your blessings, Lord we pray. Amen."

Although this time, when she said her usual grace, it was with newfound happiness; their loved ones were safe.

…

Beth couldn't deny that crawling into their bed at the lighthouse was heaven.

After dinner, they had taken turns having a wash. They filled their large pot with the fresh water they had sitting in a bucket for drinking water, and put it on the Home Comfort stove before dumping it into the tub. Neither of them wanted to waste fresh water, and when Beth had sat down in the tub of water, it hadn't even covered her ankles. Just enough to clean up.

The tub was in the middle of the room, and when Beth had begun to undress, Daryl had ventured outside. And when she had called him back in for his turn, he passed her his fishing sack containing three little lobsters.

She went to work while he had his turn to have a wash, filling the large pot with ocean water again. She planned to cook the lobster directly in the salt water, and when she emptied the sack she had watched the lobsters crawl around until Daryl had opened the door.

It was a nice sight, to see them both washed up and fed. It made Beth incredibly humble – happy. So when she had finally crawled into their bed, with promises from Daryl that he would be behind her as soon as he checked the tower lookout once more, she felt utopic.

It was well passed dark, even though the days were getting longer, and the candle she had left lit for Daryl was illuminating the whole of the tiny room. Jade was curled up on her feet, and she didn't have the heart to move an inch even as Daryl sat on the edge to untie his boots.

"All clear." He said, pulling off his button up to sleep in the t-shirt that was underneath. They'd both changed into their pajama bottoms after their wash, and Beth couldn't deny the flutter her heart did as he crawled in without hesitation, getting situated.

She smiled broadly as he blew out the candle, opening his arm and accepting her to find that place on the junction of his neck and shoulder. Their bodies moved on autopilot, their movements engrained into their beings.

"It's so nice to be home," she revealed, throwing her own arm around his torso, tucking in for the night. There was something about cuddling up to Daryl Dixon that made her insides melt, and when he gingerly placed his own hand on top of hers, she smiled up at him.

"Yeah." He agreed, an unwanted yawn breaking through his closed lips. His actions made Beth yawn as well, and she couldn't ever remember having such a sound sleep.

…

That next morning, Beth was awake before Daryl.

This particular scenario didn't happen often, but she didn't move an inch in fear that Daryl's tired eyes would snap open. He deserved to catch up on as much rest as he would allow himself – God knows he didn't at Hilltop or on their way home.

She took the moment to really look at Daryl – the shaggy hair and the unkempt whiskers. The sun that was beginning to show over the horizon amplified his softened features during sleep, and admittedly Beth thought back to her conversation with her sister.

About how she had caught Maggie staring off into space for far too long more than once while at Hilltop, always shaking her head and clearing her throat before moving on. She thought about everything that she had admitted to her sister.

" _He's… he's everything."_

"Stop staring, Greene."

His gravelly sleep voice jolted her out of her own thoughts, and when her eyes focused back on the present surroundings, she met his sleepy gaze. The bags under his eyes were less prominent, but she would have liked him to get at least a few more hours of rest.

"Morning." She whispered, getting impossibly closer to him as he began to wake up. Mornings were her favorite time of day; not because she liked waking up, no she actually hated being dragged from slumber. What she liked the most, was the five minutes Daryl allowed himself to stay put in their warm cozy bed before he would get up to start the fire and collect seawater.

"Mornin'," he grumbled, rolling over and allowing her to press her face in the hollow of his neck. She breathed in his scent, salt and musk seemed to make her hair stand on end nowadays, and she couldn't control herself when she softly placed the first kiss below his jawbone.

His calloused hand that made contact with her bare shoulder where her pajama shirt had slipped down, only made Beth move further.

She'd never been with a man before, and she wasn't really sure what she was supposed to feel. But she knew that just trailing her lips across Daryl's chiseled jawbone sent electricity through her body. She had never felt this way when Jimmy politely kissed her behind the barn when no one was looking, and no amount of things Zach had brought back for her at the prison compared to Daryl letting her slowly move closer to him.

So far they had only experienced their lips swiftly meeting before pulling away – short, fluffy moments that held a lot of importance, but had never dared to move any further. Neither of them wanted to rock the boat, but that morning was different.

That morning Beth was feeling things that she had never felt before, and when their lips finally met, it was only intensified. They melded together, Beth arching her neck to give them both better access. Their kiss lasted longer than all their others ones had combined, and she didn't dare open her eyes in fear that this was all just a dream.

But the real life dream came to an abrupt halt, as Beth slowly moved her leg over him. She was only straddling him for a second before she was suddenly in bed alone, vision blurry and lips swollen. It took her a moment to collect her thoughts, become aware of what was going on around her.

She was sure that he had been enjoying it too – actually she was positive he had been because she had _felt_ it. And then she paled, because it suddenly all became clear as to why Daryl was sitting on the very edge of the bed, hunched over and his face in his hands.

He was embarrassed that he had been enjoying it _too_ much.

"Daryl –" He jerked away when she tried to place a hand on his shoulder, hurt flooding her entire system at his action. She watched on helplessly as he threw on his jeans over his shorts in record timing, grabbing his crossbow and slamming the door shut behind him.

Beth laid back on the bed, tears in her eyes.

…

He was a stupid son of a bitch.

Now he was over here on the mainland, for no other reason than being a stupid son of a bitch, as far as he was concerned. He'd let things with Beth go too far this morning – had stormed out and left her stranded on that god damned island.

He'd just left, shoved the dory into the ocean and just abandoned her like the lowlife he was.

At first he'd had the notion to get up, walk off and never return. Hell, he told himself more than once that she would be better off, and he still wasn't so convinced that it wasn't true. Wasn't convinced that she would be better off to spend the rest of her days behind the walls of Hilltop, where her sister and her nephew resided comfortably.

Where she wouldn't have to work herself to the bone, in that garden. Where she could laze in bed all day if she wanted to, where she could find someone that would be good for her and would take care of her, instead of running off whenever things got too heavy.

Daryl had been on a one way trip to his own personal hell – a life without Beth Greene.

He'd stupidly rushed a pack of walkers that had been aimlessly wandering around, his whole body covered in the remains of his activities. And only when the last one dropped, hitting the sopping ground from the rain that had hit last night, did he realize how much of an idiot he really was.

He imagined Beth doing exactly what he was doing now – running, _looking_ for danger.

" _It's not supposed to be fun!"_

And that made his insides lurch all of a sudden; because just the very thought of Beth looking for a dangerous situation had his fist clenched with his nails digging into his palms.

He had sat there, in the middle of the woods on the soaking wet ground, six or seven dead walkers lying around, thinking about her. Thinking about how things had changed – how _he_ had changed since the fall of the prison.

How things were processing between them – how this morning had been a reminder that he didn't belong in the same world as Beth Greene, let alone the same bed.

But he had never wanted something so much before, than to be in that bed.

…

When she realized Daryl was gone, along with the dory, she sunk into the sand.

Beth had spent hours puttering around in the tiny lighthouse, trying to give him space. She hadn't even realized that she had been alone on the island for the better half of the morning.

She felt stupid and weak, she felt abandoned and crushed all at once. It was like a tidal wave of all the events and emotions she had kept pent up was released in one flood of grief. She cried for Mama, Daddy, Glenn. She let her lungs scream into the open ocean ahead of her, cursing Daryl's name as she begged and prayed for his safe return.

Not even the cat was a comfort, as it perched itself as close to her as it could while she carried on with her agonizing sobs.

…

It was dark when he returned.

After he picked his sorry ass up off the cold wet ground, he had went on a hunt for the last couple of daylight hours to clear his head. It was during his hunt that he decided that there was no life without Beth Greene, and he intended to fix whatever he had damaged.

Turns out he'd bagged his first deer since the fall of the prison – but when he'd finally found the grounded animal, he didn't feel the thrill that he usually did.

No, because all he could think about while he quickly began to dress the animal, was that Beth hadn't been here. She hadn't been there to witness it, she wasn't here to hold the crossbow or keep watch for him; she hadn't even been anticipating his return – hell she didn't even know where he was.

He'd carried that deer clean back to the dock without a single break. He didn't deserve a break, and only when the deer was situated in the dory did he allow himself to finish off the water bottle that he had left in his pack.

The current was unforgiving, and he didn't have her in the back to help him steer. But he welcomed the strain of his biceps, relished in the feel of his abdominal muscles constricting with every row. He was spent by the time he reached the island – but he knew the night was far from over.

He had a lot of apologizing to do – if she would forgive him, that is.

 **TBC**

 **What do you think?**


	19. Chapter 19

**Author's Note: You guys blow me away with your kind words and positive reviews. There's so much more to this story, and I'm so excited.**

 **Paint the Silence**

 **Chapter Nineteen**

She watched him return from the tower.

Beth hated the way that relief washed over her as she spotted him. From her perch she could tell that he had gone hunting – that had been a prediction regardless, on account of the times she had witnessed Daryl storm off and return with wild meat at the prison and farm.

Relief may have washed over her that he was safe, but that didn't mean she was ready to see him.

Beth was embarrassed more than anything – embarrassed that she had been pushing something on him this entire time. It was so painstakingly obvious that he had issues in being with her; their time at Hilltop had proven that as she remembered him stiffening as Maggie caught them in the same bedroom.

Maybe she was too thin – maybe she looked too much like a child to him. Maybe whatever had been going on was a fragment of her own imagination.

The more self-conscious she became, the more she convinced herself that she had ruined everything – pushed him too far. Inexperience got the best of her, and when she finally heard the clicking of his boots on the winding staircase of the tower, she didn't turn to look at him.

He was quiet; he usually always was. And most times she didn't mind, filling the silence with her own mindless chatter or staying in companionable silence. She'd always been a good talker, she usually could find the right words to say. But not today – today she really had nothing to say to him.

Daryl took her in as soon as he hit the landing.

Her blonde hair almost white from the moonlight, her skin pale and flawless. She was sitting on the bench he had pulled up from the kitchen, a spare blanket wrapped around her shoulders with her back to him. The cat was nowhere to be seen – it usually didn't venture up to the tower. And Beth usually didn't either. This was only the second time he had ever witnessed her up here.

He didn't dare sit down beside her, and stopped a few feet behind her. "M'sorry Beth."

When she didn't move an inch at the sound of his voice, he knew that he had really done it this time. He felt himself shutting down where he stood; Merle's voice taunting him, making his vision spin and blur.

"I – I ain't good at this, Beth."

Daryl watched on as his words hit her, and he couldn't deny that he would take her anger over her silence. She stood wildly from the bench, overturning it with the back of her knees. The crash of the bench falling ricocheted off the concrete tower, making his ears ring. He watched as Beth threw the blanket practically half way across the tower, before she whipped around to face him.

Her face was a mask of hurt, disbelief. He felt his insides plummet further down as he really took in her face – the anger, the betrayal.

"And you think I'm any good at this, Dixon?"

Her blue eyes were wild, and he hadn't heard her call him by his last name since probably the moonshine shack when she was taunting him for acting like her chaperone. Her cheeks were burning red, her hands in tight fists at her side.

Daryl was rendered speechless, but she had enough to say for the both of them.

"How _would_ I be good at this? It's not like I have any experience!" She was fuming, and she threw her arms up in anguish. "If I was pushing something on you, then a little heads up would've been nice."

He counter stepped her as she flew by, the slapping of her bare feet on the tower staircase letting him know just how fast she was descending. He stood still, not moving an inch as he listened to the door slam shut behind her, and then everything was quiet.

Daryl sat down hard; exhaustion, hunger and grief hitting him all at once.

What did Beth mean by 'not having any experience'? Had she just told him that there had never been another man? He had thought for sure that she had been with Jimmy at the farm, and was positive that she had been with Zach at the prison.

And how was he supposed to give her a heads up, when he couldn't fully understand why he had jumped out of bed and taken off in the first place? Couldn't figure out why he wouldn't allow himself to just _be_ with her.

Because fuck, he wanted her.

…

She stayed outside for as long as she could.

Beth regretted throwing the blanket around in her anger – the sleeping shirt she had on was thin and didn't do much to keep the cold breeze away. It fluttered around in the wind, her arms and chest full of goose bumps.

She had counted seven laps around the tiny island, her bare feet numb from the frigid water and sand that she mindlessly walked through. It was dark, and she had a knife on her belt just in case – she could see a few walkers wandering around on the other side of the water, seemingly harmless.

It was hard to remember a time where she had been so devastatingly hurt before.

Of course there were the obvious times – when Mama walked out of the barn, or when the Governor had Michonne's katana on Daddy's neck. Other points in their survival stood out too; like Lori, T-Dog – hell she even remembered how hell bent everyone had been on finding Sophia when they all had arrived at the farm.

But this? This was different.

She felt unwanted, burned; betrayed. She couldn't understand why they slept beside each other every night, but the thought of moving passed whatever this situation they had devised for themselves, was absurd. Couldn't understand why he had ran away like he did.

When she finally couldn't bear the frigid ocean breeze anymore, she slowly made her way inside. There were no candles lit, and the only light in the tiny little living quarters of the lighthouse was the moonlight that shone in through the windows.

"You ain't pushing anything on me."

She whipped her head around to face him, where he was sitting at the table with his head in his hands. He didn't move his face towards her, and she didn't acknowledge the meow Jade let out as she entered, either.

"Then why?" She asked, anger coursing through her at the feel of tears burning the back of her eyelids. She had told herself that she wouldn't cry – that she wouldn't show her weakness any more than she already had, with him.

And she watched as he mimicked almost the same thing she had done in the tower a few hours ago. The chair went flying, the cat dove to the bed and burrowed itself under the pillows and blankets, and his fists were clenched.

"'Cause you deserve better'n some redneck trash!" He revealed, his voice utterly broken and Beth deflated instantly. She felt all her anger, hurt and grief vanish, replaced with a pang of sadness. This whole situation hadn't been about her – hadn't had anything to do with her.

This was about his demons.

"Daryl –"

"No, Beth!" He yelled, fisting his hands in the front of his pockets. "You don't get it; I ain't like you! I can't give you what you want."

The anger was back, but it wasn't directed at him. It was directed at whatever had happened to him in his childhood – the snippets that he allowed himself to reveal to her. The stories about the scared little boy who learned to sustain himself – the little boy that she so desperately wished she could have helped.

"Oh really?" She matched the level of his voice, stalking only a step closer. Her finger pointed at him on its own accord, and her eyes were narrowed. "Because I'm pretty sure I have everything that I want right here!"

He faltered, and she took it as an opportunity.

"I _had_ everything I wanted, before it ran away this morning."

And Daryl only stood there, staring at her as she dismissed the conversation, tucking herself into the furthest side of the bed, facing away from him.

…

He slept on the couch that night.

Well, sleep was a loose word. He actually stared at the ceiling until the sun came through the windows, until the cat crawled up on his face, confused as to why he wasn't where he usually was in the early mornings.

Daryl petted its head, getting up and opening the door as it stalked over, tilting its head as if to tell him to let her out. The breeze was cool but not bitter, and he left the door open a crack for when the cat was finished with its business and would trot back in.

In the meantime, Daryl got the fire roaring on the stove, even if the seasons were evidently changing, and fetched a pot of water to get going. He tended to the deer that he had placed in the cool tower the night before, cutting edible pieces off and placed them in the sink for Beth to do as she pleased.

It was odd that she hadn't moved yet, as he went around doing the morning chores.

By this time, she would usually be up putting food in the cat's dish, where it sat since it had trotted back into the tiny lighthouse. Their routine being interrupted was a reminder of just how bad things had turned out last night.

But when he popped the first lid off a mason jar, in hopes to get breakfast going even though he had no idea what the hell he was doing, she was out of bed in a second.

"I'll do it." Her voice was detached, and she didn't look at him as she took the canned vegetables from him. He watched on dejectedly as she began to move around the kitchen with far too much elegance and grace.

"Beth." His voice was soft – he tried to make it as soft and low as he could, standing in the middle of the kitchen feeling like the idiot he was.

She stopped cutting up the potatoes, the knife falling from her grip with a clang on the countertop. Beth braced herself, taking in a steady breath before she turned around to face him. Her face was still a little swollen from crying herself to sleep, and her heart was heavy as she made eye contact with him.

"What?"

He lunged, pressing their lips together with his hands on either side of her face, trying to express just how sorry he really was.

…

"I'm going to start the garden today." Beth declared as she was putting the cut pieces of deer in a bag full of salt to cure. It was Daryl's turn to wash as he cleaned up the breakfast dishes, and he looked at her as he picked up the small wash tub they kept dirty dishes in, and dirty clothes on wash day.

"Y'think it's time?" He asked, glancing to the calendar that hung on the wall. It was mid-April, and he didn't want to push their luck. If they planted too early and lost their crop, they would be out of seeds with no garden center to run to anymore – the place was barren now that they had made at least two or three runs to it.

"Daddy always planted certain things this time of year." She told him, a wistful look dancing across her face before she masked it well. "Potatoes especially."

"A'right." He nodded, continuing to the door with the dirty dishes. "I'll help when I'm done here."

She smiled. "Thank you."

He knew things were far from over, and he still had a lot of making up to do. They didn't talk about it, but she had finally melted into his embrace when he had tucked her into his chest, hanging on for dear life.

But as he exited the door, he halted on the other side just out of view. Beth's voice carried through the tiny little lighthouse, and he closed his eyes to listen to her melodic voice.

 _A combination  
of love and aggression  
another second lived._

…

As soon as she began to move the Earth underneath her, she felt herself relax.

Having a task to do, which would keep her constantly busy for the next six months of the year was joyously welcomed. Sitting around watching their food slowly diminish was on the bottom of her list of favorite things to do – and she was thankful that she had found a way to contribute.

She was still mad, and the repetitive manner of churning the sandy soil not only tired her out physically, but mentally as well. She was still upset that after all this time they had been together, Daryl had felt the need to run away from her. Had felt the need to pick up and disappear without letting her know when, or if he was coming back.

Beth made a few hidden glances his way, where he was wading into the water that only reached about his ankles. He had their dish sponge and the tiny little bit of bar soap they had left. They were beginning to live without soap now – they only used it for their dishes and clothes. They didn't bother to use soap on themselves anymore; if you scrubbed hard enough, soap was actually obsolete.

She sighed, annoyed with herself that she couldn't stay mad at him for very long.

…

Beth was spent, and as soon as she was out of the claw foot tub and into her pajamas, she crawled into bed.

She'd gotten the potato portion almost weeded and turned, and despite the gardening gloves she had on, her nails were black by the time she was finished. Daryl had offered to help, and she had asked him to gather more leaves for mulch, which he had been happy to do.

He'd brought back dinner with him, and she had to admit that having a fresh meal of pan fried rabbit with chives and green onion was a pleasant change. They never complained about their salt fish and meat, but Beth's favorite time of year was when spring rolled around, and fresh food could be found.

She was facing away from where she could hear him puttering around at the kitchen sink, and she wasn't quite confident enough to ask him to come to bed like she would have any other night, before everything had happened between them.

But she didn't have to ask, as she heard him make his own way over, only pausing for a moment to strip to his shorts and t-shirt. The tiny bed that was well passed ancient creaked under his weight as he crawled in, and Beth held her breathe in anticipation as he crawled under the sheets with her.

His immediate body heat soothed her in a way she may never be able to explain, and she felt her body melt against the warm hand he placed on her shoulder. She rolled around to face him, and she smiled when he ended up being a lot closer than she had thought.

"You've never?" His voice was a whisper, he felt extremely embarrassed and this was a conversation that he really didn't want to have. But this was _her_ and hell he'd do anything to make her happy. No matter how much he really didn't deserve Beth Greene, he was still human.

She gulped, looking at his face. "You drink."

He got the reference immediately, and despite the heavy atmosphere, he felt his lips cracking into a smirk. She gave him a soft smile back, and when he opened his arm for her she didn't hesitate.

"If –" He broke off to clear his throat, as if unsure of himself. "If – we gotta be safe. I ain't hurting you."

She tried to stop imagining Lori, but she couldn't. She nodded up at him, and both their faces turned serious as she placed her head on his chest, lost in thought.

 **TBC**

 **Thanks for reading! Thoughts?**


	20. Chapter 20

**Author's Note: Apologies for being late on the update, I've been sick all week and just got caught up on work. Being sick in the summertime absolutely sucks. Anyways, this chapter is a personal fav.**

 **Paint the Silence**

 **Chapter Twenty**

"I really don't want you to go alone," Beth revealed, as she scooped another dipper full of water out of the tub they had begun to fill again for the gardening season. The ocean was still frigid, but they didn't complain. She made quick work of filling the two large jars that she would wrap up in his sweater, to take with him.

"Just two weeks." He shrugged, glancing up at her before stuffing more things that she had laid out the night before for him to take. An extra set of clothes, what was left of the lettuce chips and two whole jars of cooked potatoes and pickled cucumber that she had done up last night. "Probably shorter, if she got a car."

"That's a long time, Daryl."

It only took another glance up from his packing, before he dropped everything and turned to her. She was standing by the door, arms crossed and forehead puckered.

The garden was planted, the tub was full of fresh water, and the fish were swimming. He'd been out trying to catch as much as he could before his departure, but he was still not confident that he had gotten enough. There were leftover mason jars for fish that Beth was itching to fill for the season, and their timeframe was beginning to narrow significantly.

Daryl made his way over to where she stood, and opened his arms for her. She didn't hesitate to walk into them, wrapping her own arms around his middle and she breathed him in. Tried to remember what it felt like to have his arms wrapped around her – tried to engrain his scent in the depths of her memories.

"Be quick as I can, girl." He promised, running his hand up and down her arm; something he had learned pretty quickly that she appreciated – something that she looked for.

Beth sighed. "I know, but I don't have to like it."

Never in his life did he have someone worry about him as much as Beth did. Sometimes, he was almost positive that she would actively _seek_ things and events to worry about. The garden, the cat, the dory; the list went on and on.

He only pulled her tighter against himself, not wanting to admit that he would worry about her here alone, too.

…

Beth knew that Daryl was more than capable out there, but she couldn't help when the cold hands of anxiety gripped her shoulders and wouldn't let go.

He was returning to Hilltop to pick up a few supplies that they needed, and to bring Maggie and the baby back with him. And she had to stay behind to care for the garden, preserve food and fish – what she was currently doing.

Jade was lazily trotting around the island, making a mad dash at any gull that dare land on the sand, while she kept a close eye on where they were diving in the water while she stood hip deep. She was proud of herself, for catching five fish – four that would be bottled and one that she would keep for herself and the cat tonight. It worked out well, because she could fit four to a small bottle if she really pushed it.

She'd already watered the garden, had breakfast, and completed the inside morning chores. She planned on washing bedclothes that afternoon, along with any other clothes that were sitting in a pile at the bottom of the closet.

She was keeping herself extremely busy, to keep her mind from wandering.

Didn't want to think about Daryl out there, alone. She didn't want to think about how Maggie would react to their little lighthouse – that is if they made it. She didn't want to think about the herds of walkers that still roamed the earth, and her tiny nephew who had such a big legacy to fulfill.

The last words that Daryl had casually called to her from the drifting away dory, some nonsense about not working too hard and watching her arm, was weighing heavily on her mind. It was only a week into the two week trip, and she was already starting to have awful thoughts pass through her vision.

Suddenly, after all this time, everything was clear.

God, why hadn't she told him she loved him?

…

The trip there was tiring.

He'd dealt with his fair share of walkers, and he had almost gotten shot by some kid at the gate who was new at the job. He had actually laughed at that one – walking all the way here without a scratch and then almost taken out by Maggie's guards. Beth would've been wild, and Maggie had hauled the kid off that wall so fast even he'd been a little scared of her.

Greene girls – no one fucked with them. Including himself. Learned that one the hard way.

Maggie had puttered around for a whole day before she deemed them ready to go, and when she finally said the word, Daryl had sat in the driver's side of the Range Rover and flashed her a devious smirk.

She had only rolled her eyes before climbing in after him.

There was no awkwardness as they set off, being on the road together a distant memory, but not extinct. Both of them had been vital to the prisons survival, and that first winter together had been long and seemingly endless.

"I'm excited to see her." Maggie admitted as they drove on, the baby drifting off in his mother's arms only moments after the gates of Hilltop melted into the distance. "I need some time."

Daryl eyed her silently, pushing back the tree branches with the Rover as they set off beyond the marked roads. He hadn't seen another person in a long time, but some things like travelling on lesser known roads may never come to an end.

He took his time while driving, and by the middle of the trip, she was beginning to get the hang of being on the road again. The baby was so well mannered that it shocked Daryl – the kid never made a noise. Hell if it wasn't for his occasional baby giggle, it would seem like he wasn't even there. Much different from Judith even, who had been put through the ringer and back before her teeth poked gum.

"I take him for walks outside of the walls every week," Maggie revealed one day. "I want him to know what it's really like out there."

Daryl had nodded at that.

He'd watch on some nights while she tried to get him to settle in the backseat of the car, and most nights it wasn't a problem. Other nights he would toss and turn, spitting out his pacifier just so his mother would stick it back in. Those were the nights that she would sit him back up, pass him a miniature version of a Dodge Challenger to play with until he would rub his eyes and search for his mother. Always quiet, always with the tiny invasive eyes.

Daryl didn't call the baby by name, and one day while they were driving in the blistering heat with no gas to waste on air conditioning, a blanket draped over the child to protect him from the sun, did Maggie comment on it.

"You know, I can't call him by name sometimes either." Her face was kind when he glanced at her, but he could tell there was a layer of darkness that she couldn't easily hide. "I call him Junior on those days."

Since then, he called the kid Junior.

He noticed instantly when the air began to change, and figured they were only about a few hours away. He didn't have a calendar with him, but he figured that they were beginning to push the two week mark, and knew Beth would be beside herself when they finally did return. Having a car only helped so much with time, when roads were blocked and paths were narrow.

As Maggie got Junior set up for the evening, embers red and hot from where he had been blowing on them to get going, he loaded his crossbow and stood from the car. "Bout a day off, goin' huntin'. Got a rabbit request."

Maggie only smiled.

…

When Daryl pulled into an abandoned garden center, Maggie didn't have to say anything to let him know that she understood.

They silently went about getting their gear packed and on their backs, and Daryl didn't even think twice about grabbing Maggie's two, even though he had to throw the three rabbits he'd gotten last night over his shoulder too.

He hated the idea of making her walk for the next few hours, with the baby in her arms, but it was necessary. The last thing he wanted was for walkers to follow the sound of the loud Range Rover to their dock – or even worse, people.

…

"Woah." Maggie breathed as they finally reached the embankment that led to the dock, the sun shining and the water glistening. The tiny little lighthouse on the horizon looked like heaven to Daryl, and he didn't hesitate to race to the dock where the dory was still tied.

He made quick work of getting all their things situated, the tote of wood he had collected before he set off on the trip in the middle to balance everything out. He was confident as he nodded at Maggie, who was eyeing the water soaked walkers that stood on the sea bottom, who could hardly move anything but their yellow glowing eyes anymore.

She didn't question him, but he noticed that she clung to Junior a little tighter as she finally got herself in the boat and seated. The pacifier that was in the babies mouth moved furiously, the excitement coursing through all three of them as Daryl pushed off the dock with his foot.

Rowing to the little island had become exceptionally easier as he got the hang of things, and there was no panic within him as he pushed through the current, the baby occasionally letting out a joyful laugh as the water from his oar would splash the water, sending a small spray towards Maggie.

"Almost home," Daryl called behind him as they were approaching the daunting tower, and Maggie didn't miss for a second that the noun _home_ wasn't taken lightly nowadays.

…

Beth was in the tower when she recognized Daryl's build slink down the embankment on the other side of the water, and only a moment later, her sister and nephew were making their way to the dock as well.

She could feel the moment when relief washed over her body, and the pads of her feet echoed off the concrete tower walls as she flew down the spiral staircase. She couldn't even feel her sore muscles from all the scrubbing she had done yesterday, the adrenaline of having Daryl back safe, and having Maggie at the lighthouse was almost too much.

"They're here!" She called to the cat, who lifted its head lazily from where it had been perched on the back of the couch. But when Beth opened the door, the cat was trotting out behind her as she made her way knee deep in the water, prepared to help guide the dory to the shore.

Their trip across the water seemingly lasted hours, before they were close enough and Maggie was smiling with a wide smile as she clutched to the baby. As soon as she grabbed the bowline of the dory, Daryl's foot came out to stabilize the dory that hit the sandy bottom only a second later.

Beth leaned over instantly, hugging her sister and nephew in one long embrace. Having them here at the lighthouse meant more to her than she would have ever anticipated, a feeling of pure contentment washing over her body, leaving goosebumps across her skin.

She grabbed the baby as Maggie pulled herself out of the dory, her feet sloshing in the ocean water. She watched on patiently as Maggie shrugged on her backpack, taking the baby back as she smiled at her little sister, turning to take in the lighthouse that towered above them.

Beth only had to take a step in the water before her arms were circled around Daryl's waist, and he instantly stilled his movements of getting the dory shored. His arms wrapped around her as well, the wet rope of the bowline that he was still clutching in his hand sending a shiver up her back.

"Thank you." Beth whispered to him, her arms pulling tighter around his midsection. She breathed in the scent that was him, closing her eyes for a second to relish in the feeling of having him back in her arms. "I was starting to worry."

He rubbed her arm before he stepped back, presenting her with that smirk that made her chest constrict with emotions. He nudged her towards the bank where her sister was looking around curiously, the baby watching them from over her shoulder. "Go on, Greene."

She smiled brightly up at him, catching and squeezing his hand before she led her sister towards the little island that they called home.

…

As he entered the lighthouse after getting the dory unloaded and situated, he was met with the intoxicating smell of whatever savory dish Beth had simmering on the Home Comfort stove.

Beth had the baby in her arms, talking animatedly to the cat who was perched high on the kitchen cupboards. As Daryl walked in, the cat looked at him with wide eyes, as if it were asking him to get it the hell away from this tiny human being.

Maggie was poking around, her face holding a sincere smile as she glanced at him upon his arrival. Daryl went about business, shedding his sloshing boots and grabbing his other pair of clothes out of the closet. They were stacked neatly and smelled of the laundry soap he had brought back for them, and when he took a better look around, he realized that Beth must have kept herself busy by scrubbing every damn surface possible.

The whole lighthouse was spotless, and there were no weeds or dandelions to be seen on the island. And Beth only smiled at him as he placed the run items on the countertop – knowing that arranging things was one of her favorite tasks.

He shut the door behind him as he walked the towers stairs, counting twenty four more mason jars filled with fish and produce. Just like he had told her not to, she had worked herself to the bone in his absence. He decided that first thing tomorrow morning, he was going to throw the fishing pot in the water for one more try, figuring that it was coming close to the end of the season.

His wet clothes slapped the ground as he changed into dry ones, leaving his feet bare. Summer was officially here, and the heat that came with it. Just being up in the tower was a relief, the concrete walls the coolest place of the island.

Returning back downstairs, he felt an odd sense of pride settle over him as Beth continued to show her sister her herb pots that lined the windowsill, the sea salt that was drying on the sheet pans, and the old wood stove that was literally Beth's favorite thing left in the world – maybe besides the damn cat.

Junior was perched in Beth's arms, and when he laid eyes on Daryl, his soother fell to the floor as his face broke out into a smile. His baby gibberish had both woman swooning, and Daryl almost rolled his eyes as he took the baby from her arms. The kid was smarter than he let on.

"Are we ready for dinner?" Beth asked, picking up the soother and throwing it into the sink. He knew that she would wash it with the dinner dishes, even though there probably wasn't one spec of dirt left on the wooden floor.

He nodded, taking hint to start with the evening chores, passing Junior back over to his mother. He made quick work of setting the table, crushing the mint leaves in three cups instead of just two before putting water on to boil. He filled their water bucket that they kept for smaller portions of water in the winter with a dip into the tub, and made quick work of watering the garden that was beginning to flourish.

Beth had let the fire go out a while ago, but the little house held the heat and he rubbed his wet forehead when he walked in. She wove him over to the table, placing a steaming bowl of fresh fish soup with crispy potato patties to accompany it in front of him.

He watched as she set the same heaping plateful in front of Maggie, a smaller portion for herself, and an even smaller portion for the kid. She swiftly plucked the baby from Maggie's arms, waving her sister off as she started to protest. "You've been on the road for days, I can feed him while you eat."

When she sat down, Daryl offered his hand without a second thought because hell this smelled amazing and his stomach was beginning to growl in anticipation. He'd gotten used to Beth's meals, and when he had to go without, it was always a reminder of just how lucky he really was.

Beth grabbed his hand, and Maggie followed suit with a curious eye.

When they all bowed their heads, Daryl couldn't help but notice when Maggie's shoulders seemed to sag as Beth's soft voice said a prayer – a prayer that she had told him had been a nightly routine at the Greene farm.

 **TBC**

 **Thoughts?**


	21. Chapter 21

**Author's Note: It's festival season – and that means vacation! Hammocks, bare feet and tenting weather; perfect oasis for some catch up writing sessions. Not sure how I feel about this chapter, but I'm rolling with it.**

 **Paint the Silence**

 **Chapter Twenty One**

Daryl had to admit, even if they were all basically living on top of each other, having the extra set of hands was appreciated.

He spent longer days outside, fishing, checking and rigging the pot without feeling like he should be helping inside the blistering little lighthouse with Beth. He got a lot more done, too, and caught a lot more to be canned. No one had discussed winter as of yet, but he was beginning to feel that maybe Maggie was itching to return to Hilltop.

Either way, to both him and Beth, the summer was a time where they prepared themselves for the changing seasons. Last year they had gone through quite a few nights with hungry bellies, and this year they were determined to better themselves.

This year Beth had added a whole new section to the garden, and the day the grain stocks started to poke through would be a day he would never forget. Beth had been ecstatic, almost tripping over herself to throw her arms around his neck in excitement.

He'd clung to her waist as she flung herself at him, where he had been standing in the water with the breakfast dishes, and they had both gone down with a splash. Daryl hadn't even cared that the dishes were slowly floating away as she pulled him in for a long, salty kiss.

He wasn't even embarrassed when he heard Maggie laugh from the lighthouse, the island a giant sandbox for the baby who raced around in his cloth diapers for most of the day. He'd only deepened the kiss before dunking both their heads.

And if Maggie didn't like the idea of Daryl Dixon with her baby sister, she certainly didn't show it. He had been apprehensive about showing any sort of affection, choosing to sleep on the bench in the tower, but Beth had put an end to that only a week after Maggie had been here.

"Daryl Dixon, if you don't come to bed tonight I'm not making fishcakes tomorrow."

It was always the damn fishcakes.

In the beginning he'd crawl into bed when Maggie was sound asleep on the couch, careful to wake and get his day started before she woke. He was paralyzed at the thought that some morning she would wake up and realize the redneck trash her sister had been keeping with this whole time.

But it never came.

In fact, Maggie openly accepted him – which made Daryl feel all sorts of awkward. She'd squeeze his shoulder during Grace over their meals, she would shoo little Junior outside with him in the afternoons when the little lighthouse would be too hot for the boy to stand the heat and the woodstove roaring. She would include him in the conversations he walked in on – but one day their conversation had taken a turn that Daryl would never have imagined.

"Daddy would've been proud." She had stated, while he had been leaning over the pot, throwing the measly lobster he had managed to wrangle that day in his game bag. She'd caught him by surprise, sitting softly in the sand beside him as they glanced at Beth who was wiggling a feather for both Junior and the cat. "Taking care of Bethy, making her happy."

Daryl had snorted. "Doubt that."

Maggie was silent for a moment, watching him as he dug into the bucket of chum – that was just the remains of the filleted fish – and set it in the trap as bait. She watched him work, before assisting him in throwing it back out as far as their arms would allow.

"When are you going to give yourself a break?" Maggie asked in all seriousness, wading into the water with him even though she didn't have fish guts to wash off. "Look at everything you two have."

Daryl only glanced at her, continuing to wash his arms and hands off. He was put off by Maggie, not fully understanding where this conversation had come from, or where it was going. "Got lucky, s'all."

He wasn't expecting the small splash of water that hit his face. "You're a good man, Daryl Dixon. My sister sees it, and so do I."

She left him then, confused and uncomfortable.

…

Summer was coming to an end, and the last few weeks had been consumed with completing their canning before they moved on to the wheat, sending it through the coffee grinder and sifter before storing it in the big container that still had a cheese puff logo on the front.

Beth made sure to take special care in gathering and storing away seeds for next season, while he continued to catch as much shellfish as he could manage. It was one of their favorites, and he was content with making a few extra trips to shore for a good hunt without worrying.

Junior was growing – he was toddling around the island most days now, making best of friends with the cat who had become pretty near attached to the little boy who was extremely gentle with the creature, despite his age. Junior would pet the cat for hours, and the cat would lazily accept the pets, rolling over and giving the toddler access much to his delight.

It was when they were all eating a feast of turkey with most of the fixings did Maggie mention returning to Hilltop.

He had caught the bird on a whim – he'd only been on shore to collect some more wood when the wild turkey had flailed and scared the living shit out of him. He had plucked it when he returned to the island, putting it in the only roasting pan Beth had, the legs overflowing and charred but they hadn't complained.

Beth had gave him a wide smile when he had presented the prepared bird to her – where she chopped up green onion, chives and other dried spices she had collected to go over it. Maggie had plucked fresh potatoes and carrots from the garden, boiling them down and making mash.

Hell, Beth even made gravy with the juices leftover and a little bit of the flour they had made – a feast of sorts, and maybe that's why Maggie had decided to bring it up.

Daryl didn't miss the sad look that passed through Beth's face.

"Oh Maggie, we have more than enough. You don't have to leave." Beth reassured, completely detesting the idea of her sister leaving. They had become closer than maybe they had ever been this summer, and definitely more productive together than apart. She loved having her sister and nephew here, maybe more than she had realized at the mention of them departing.

Maggie shook her head. "I know, Beth. I wish we could stay, but I have to help Hilltop get ready for winter too."

Beth had nodded at that, understanding and willing herself not to be selfish. Her sister ran a community elsewhere and had already stayed far longer than she had been anticipating. Their visit turned into a two month visit, and she pushed herself to be thankful instead of greedy.

"Next summer?" Beth asked, smiling sadly at Junior who animatedly smashed food into his mouth, smiling and giggling as the cat gobbled up what was dropped.

"Definitely." Maggie agreed.

…

There was no misfires when the hill ended and they were at the gates of Hilltop this time around, and there was immediate excitement as people laid eyes on their leader. Daryl felt like some sort of fucked up hero, as everyone patted him on the back for Maggie's safe return.

And then Maggie had surprised the hell out of him, after she had hugged countless people who came to her with open arms, handing off the baby to a young girl who she had called Enid, of who he hadn't missed Carl had been holding hands with.

She'd pulled him into her room – the grandest room in the place, with the king bed and the tall wooden posts. He felt extremely awkward as she shut the door behind him, immediately going to the dresser that was off to one side. He twisted his hands, wringing his knuckles, unsure what was going on.

She had only taken a second before she had produced what she had been looking for, catching his eye and not letting him look elsewhere.

"I don't think I'll ever be able to thank you enough." Maggie began, and he noticeably began to rock uncomfortably on his feet.

"Kept herself safe." Daryl interrupted, annoyed with how everyone overlooked Beth's own strength. How did people not see that she kept him safe, too? And he had to push away the panic he felt rising in his throat, with the thought that Beth was alone on the island. She was tough but her arm was shit.

Maggie smiled at that – a real smile. "I know."

Daryl once again retreated within himself, watching with intent eyes as Maggie mulled something over, her own demons running wild. It felt like time was slowing; that maybe it stopped all together as Maggie finally lifted her watery eyes to his. Her hallow face showing just how much this dead world had taken.

He physically jumped when Maggie laughed – a strained affair.

"He took it off a walker, hardly romantic." She shook her head, her face turning into a smile despite the tears that pooled. Her breathe was shaky as she clutched her hand tightly to her chest. "It's too hard to wear it now – too hard to remember what should've been. I know he'd want this."

Daryl adverted his eyes to his boots, his fists clenching uncomfortably at the thought of Glenn's meaningless death. The guilt pricked his skin – maybe he could've done something, but instead he chose Beth and that was something he'd always have to live with. They had lost a lot of people, too many to count even, but the memories of the Korean kid may never leave him.

"Here." Maggie sighed, holding out her hand for him. She held her arm out firmly, not moving an inch as she waited for his palm to outreach. And only when she felt the cool metal slip passed her fingers into his, did she breathe.

Daryl's expression was stricken, as if the metal had scorched his skin.

He faltered, that she could see, and she felt her heart go out to the surely redneck who had changed so much since she had first met him back at the farm. He was still withdrawn and quiet, but it was easy to see that Daryl had a softer side to him if one were to look hard enough. Especially while around her baby sister.

"Give Beth a hug for me, okay?" The tears in her eyes finally leaking passed her lids, long tears leaving marks down her cheek. Her smile broke as she tried to reassure him, and she couldn't help but throw an arm around his shoulders. "And be safe."

Daryl had only nodded, his own throat constricted with emotion.

...

He had refused to take the Range Rover that Maggie had graciously offered him, and the plants were out of the ground and the tub had been drained by the time he had returned, the little piece of metal weighing heavily in his pocket.

As soon as he took in the island, everything perfect and kempt, he fel guilt stab at his chest. He should've been here helping Beth prepare for the changing seasons, instead of the hot meals and showers Hilltop had offered him.

All was forgotten, however, as the door to the tower flew open and the woman in question started to run. He only had a second to brace himself before she was clinging to his neck, her legs circling around his waist in excitement.

"God, this time felt like forever." Beth whispered, pushing her face further into the hollows of his neck and shoulder – and Daryl was greedy. He held on for all he was worth, taking comfort in the smell of her salty skin, the smell of their Irish Spring soap from Hilltop still clinging to her hair.

"Mm," Daryl agreed, his hand running up and down her back when he noticed her sighing response, her arms winding tighter around him. And they stayed like that for a moment, just relishing in the feel of having each other back.

When Beth let her legs drop, he crouched to lift her down. The smile she was giving him made his tired eyes heavy, the comfort of _her_ washing over him like a blanket of warmth. Never had he experienced the feeling of coming home before, but this place right here with Beth's glowing smile, was more than enough for him.

"Cucumber salad, some mash and fried fish. I hope you're hungry," Beth teased as they slowly prepared the dory for next time, tying it to the lighthouse stairs in case they ever experienced high tides. She knew damn well that he was starving, and couldn't help the growl his stomach let out when the aroma of her dished up food wafted out of the open door.

Beth went straight to the stove when they walked in the little lighthouse, the table already set and salad and mash heaped in bowls, while he went directly to the closet. They'd washed his clothes at Hilltop for him, and had even given him some extras for both of them. But he was itching to get out of these week long dirty ones, and planned to dunk himself in the ocean immediately after dinner. Beth would never allow him to crawl into bed like this, walker gunk and all.

Laying out his clothes and towel, he sat at the dinner table, the odd sensation of his lips pulling up into a smile. Beth scooped up large portions of each for him, before making a smaller plate for herself. She sat down, and quickly said Grace.

But this time, when her hand was in his and her head bowed in prayer, he didn't follow her lead. No, he couldn't look anywhere else but her.

 **TBC**

 **Thoughts?**


	22. Chapter 22

**Author's Note: Bonus chapter this week just because.**

 **Paint the Silence**

 **Chapter Twenty Two**

Winter came, and it seemed to stay forever.

Beth, she had been in bed for the last two weeks. Her body frail, her pale skin almost translucent. Her blonde hair dull, her blue eyes even more so. She slept for the majority of the day, usually waking by the horrid coughs that would wrack her tiny body.

The ocean air was unforgiving and bitter – Daryl had been going on a weekly run to stock up on firewood, trying to keep the chill away from her. He made sure she was huddled under the blankets, had even started wrapping heated towels around her legs and feet.

She wasn't feeling good enough to cook, and his half ass meals only made her nauseous and pale. The cat pranced around her like it was waiting for something, always perched as close as it could get to her puckered face.

Daryl was concerned – had been from the beginning. He shouldn't have listened to her when she had brushed him off, saying it was just the common cold when he'd wanted to go on a cold meds run. He had been so anxious for her to get better, that he had believed her.

He was so stupid.

He'd caught her from falling that day, when she finally admitted her symptoms weren't getting any better, just seconds away from hitting her head on the edge of the Home Comfort stove she was standing over.

And when her eyes had finally closed in slumber, he had panicked. Full out hyperventilated, losing the contents of his stomach. Then he'd gotten in the dory, went to the next town over that they had visited countless times before, and didn't leave any medicine cabinet untouched.

Nothing. There was absolutely nothing.

He returned that day to Beth violently coughing, and only when he rubbed her back did they subside. He only had a few Advil to offer her, which would do absolutely nothing to help her, and gave her one of the Gravol's he had found too.

Nothing helped – they needed antibiotics, and things like that had been picked clean a long time ago.

" _And if you ever need anything, you know where we are."_

Two days – it had taken two full days on the other side of the shore before he finally cranked the engine of an old Buick miles away, and he damn near busted when it rolled over. Then it had taken another half day to collect what he thought would be enough gas to make the days trip in the old thing.

He cursed the moment he had turned down the Range Rover from Maggie – making it a punishment game for himself as he made himself think about it. Reminded himself that he was the one at fault for all of this.

"Beth." He had said, his voice thick from emotion at her state. Her hair was plastered to her sweating forehead, in a delirious state as her eyes slowly searched for him. He couldn't help when his hand came to move the hair away from her face, alarmed with just how hot her skin felt.

Her voice was weak when she sighed his name, her face leaning into his cold hand.

"Be gone two days, I gotta get you something." And he almost lashed out in anger as she began to shake her head in argument; knowing that she would give him some stupid excuse that she was okay, that she would be fine and he didn't need to go out there. But then her head lolled to the side, and another violent coughing fit started.

By the time she was done, there was specks of blood dotting her hand and lips. He felt panic rise all at once, getting his numb limps into gear and half ass packing a bag. He wiped her hand and mouth clean, grabbing onto her and holding tight.

"Please, Beth." Was all he said as she drifted back off, and when her eyes closed he allowed his own to close as well, kissing her forehead.

…

That damn gas pedal was to the floor more than not.

He tested luck, fate and who knew what else as he raced the highways, dodging walkers and bypassing car pileups. He'd had a moment of realization, after ramping the car off the interstate to get to the other side, to avoid a long pile of cars. If he didn't get there alive, Beth would have no one.

But then images of Merle's dead face resurfaced, and he pushed the pedal further.

Alexandria was only a day's drive away on the interstate, and the sun was just beginning to go down as he reached the gates. He'd never been, but it was exactly how Rick and Carl had described it. Bigger than Hilltop, with a lot more resources.

Daryl jumped out of the car as soon as he was close enough. Yelling, every emotion swelling inside him portrayed as anger. "Hey!"

The guards on the wall had their weapons trained on him instantly, but he didn't care. He had made it, dammit, and he didn't have much time. _She_ didn't have much time.

"Hey buddy, back off!" A guard yelled, his voice matching his stance. The large redheaded man cursed as he pointed his rifle at him with no remorse. "Who the fuck are you?"

"Who the fuck are _you_?" Daryl could feel himself lose all restraints, wielding his crossbow in front of him for good measure. "Get Rick _now_."

The man at the wall faltered at the mention of Rick. And when he flicked his wrist, the younger boy who was on the other side of the gate was scrambling down and tore off towards the town. It only took a moment, but it felt like an eternity as the young boy came back, Rick close on his heels.

The recognition on Rick's face was instant, and his face turned from pleasant surprise to concern when he took in the distraught look of the hunter. "Daryl?"

"It's Beth."

…

Daryl was fit to be caged, and it was Rick who offered to drive them back to the lighthouse that night, Denise in tow.

"Won't make it back 'til morning." Daryl huffed, his knee thrashing up and down as he sat in the passenger seat of the Ford Escape that Rick had taken from Alexandria. His thumb was raw from the excessive chewing, his eyes heavy and sunken in.

All he could think about was Beth.

Rick nodded, turning the lights on and taking off at a good clip. It was probably for the best that Rick was driving with a level head, Daryl knew, but he felt his anger rise every time he slowed down to avoid an obstacle. He hadn't felt this sort of urgency since Beth had broken her arm, years back after the prison.

It was silent, and the woman in the back didn't move an inch, ticking him off even more.

"You better know what you're doing." Daryl grumbled at her, earning an annoyed look from Rick who easily dodged a walker.

The woman nodded in the backseat, growing uncomfortable as she shifted in her seat. This woman was apparently a doctor – had brought a medical bag with her. Had a stethoscope wrapped around her neck, empty syringes poking out of her lab coat pocket.

And Daryl did something he couldn't ever remember doing before – he prayed.

…

The dory trip across was devastatingly slow.

"Get in!" He barked as the woman hesitated, and when she finally sat her ass down, he pushed off and jumped in. He grabbed the oars, and met eyes with Rick who had picked up the third without even asking, or knowing what to do.

All were quiet as they paddled furiously over and over, anticipation grating his nonexistent nerves as the island seemed to move further away, until it wasn't. His foot made contact with the icy waters, and he leaped out and dragged the dory as far in the sand as he could get it with the two of them still in it.

He didn't even wait for them to get out as he made a dash for the lighthouse, the little bit of warmth that was left from the dying fire warming his soaking feet.

"Beth." He whispered as he franticly made his way to the bedside, relief flooding every ounce of his body as he watched her chest rise and fall. Sitting beside her, he moved the hair that was once again stuck to her sweating forehead in her fitful sleep.

She looked terrible – her skin almost white, her lips turning an odd shade of purple.

When her eyes opened, they were disoriented. It was as if her vision would not stay focused, and the coughing began just as Rick and the woman they called Denise walked in, eyes curious with disbelief.

Daryl rubbed her back like he had been doing, and wiped her face and hands with his rag when she was done. Her eyes closed, squeezing tight in pain, and Daryl felt himself snap.

"Help her, dammit!"

Denise took action at his request, yet he had no idea how hard it would be to let someone else take over and care for the blonde. She looked so fragile, lifeless as she laid on the bed, the woman beginning to poke her delicate skin with needles that had bags attached to them.

Rick caught his shoulder in his hand, nodding at Denise as she glanced up at them with a concerned look, and his longtime friend led him outside and into the sand where he collapsed in a heap. His face was buried in his hands when Rick sat beside him, taking in the surroundings.

It felt like forever until Rick spoke. "You were always better at this."

Daryl took a steady breath, his vision swirling when he lifted his head. He watched Rick look around their island for a moment, before he felt his anger rise up his throat like bile. "Ain't good at nothin'. Can't even keep her alive."

Rick gave him a worried glance. "You did the right thing."

Daryl shook his head furiously, ignoring the praise that he didn't deserve. Beth was inside with a woman he didn't know from Adam, needles bruising her flawless skin, blood coming up from her coughing fits. "Took too long."

Rick sighed, but didn't say anything else as they waited. He knew how Daryl's mind worked, how he ticked and now was not the time to argue. Right now all he could do was sit with his friend, who had sought him out for help.

…

When the door opened and Denise stepped through, he was on his feet in an instant. She looked nervous, her eyes glancing from Rick to Daryl uneasily. Everyone was exhausted, and the sun was fully overhead now.

"What is it?" Daryl growled, impatience flaring as he caught sight of Beth who was still laying lifelessly on the bed.

"Bacterial pneumonia, and a pretty bad case at that." Denise revealed, taking off the surgical mask and latex gloves. "It's an acute infection of the lungs, probably brought on by the woodstove smoke. Not contagious, which explains why you're fine. She's lucky you came when you did."

Daryl felt himself go cold, thinking of all the time that Beth spent over that damned woodstove. How she had been cooped up for over two weeks – and he had been deliberately stocking the fire. He felt heavy, like the weight of the world was suddenly pushing down on his shoulders.

It was all his fault.

"I've got her on a slow saline drip to rehydrate and replenish her salt levels." Denise continued, although Rick could easily spot Daryl shutting down, and gripped his shoulder again. "I've given her all the antibiotics I can, for now. When she's feeling better we can try some cough medicine too, it'll help with the cough and sore throat."

Daryl looked at the doctor, who squirmed under his daunting gaze. She wasn't stupid, as she said the only words he'd been looking for in the first place.

"She's tough, she's going to make it."

…

The dinner he cooked didn't live up to anything that Beth would've made for them, but neither Rick or Denise complained as they sat down at the table, Beth sleeping away on the bed. He'd served them relish, which was just pickles in brine that Beth had sent through the coffee grinder, and pickled potatoes and carrots from the Mason jars that he'd ate a portion out of yesterday. He didn't bother opening any of the fish that was bottled, not sure what she would want him to use.

Her skin was regaining some colour, and the wheeze of her breathing had subsided greatly as she slept on, the drip of the IV Denise had propped up on the headboard going steady. Her lips were no longer a purple tint, and suddenly Daryl felt the events of the last few days catch up with him.

He wanted nothing more than to climb into bed with her, and make sure she was warm enough. So when everyone was finished eating, the roar of the fire and the crashing waves the only sound, he pulled blankets from the closet.

Daryl made them quick beds, one on the couch and one on the floor by the stove. He didn't even need to say anything as Denise crawled to the couch and Rick sprawled out on the floor, exhaustion taking everyone.

…

He'd only been asleep for two hours tops, when movement from the bed had him sitting up with wide eyes.

"Sorry." Denise whispered as she jumped back, clutching the full IV bag to her chest in surprise. She had been leaning over Beth, who still slept soundly beside him.

He detached himself from Beth, where he had been holding onto her for dear life just to hear her breathe, and shook the sleep from his eyes. He nodded his head at Denise as she stepped back towards Beth, while he got out of bed and stretched his legs.

Rick was still dead to the world on the mounts of blankets he had thrown by the woodstove, and he stepped over him as he went for the door. He had been up for nearly forty eight hours, and yet he knew that he wouldn't be falling back asleep. Not when the sun was shining and Denise was working on Beth.

He made quick work of fixing the dory, getting it ready just in case, like they always did. The cat, which had been perched high on top of the cupboards since their arrival followed him out cautiously, squatting quickly and getting its business done.

The thing had been acting strange since Beth had been under the weather, and Daryl couldn't help but allow himself to feel some comfort when Jade nuzzled against his leg. He picked it up, something he had never done before, and fell to the ground as it settled comfortably in his arms.

And he finally let his tears fall.

 **TBC**

 **Thoughts?**


	23. Chapter 23

**Author's Note: One more chapter to go! And perhaps an epilogue.**

 **Paint the Silence**

 **Chapter Twenty Three**

When both Rick and Denise were up, he set around the house like any other morning even though the sun was going down.

They both watched on as he boiled down water, got the little herb pots watered and emptied the sheet pans of collected sea salt into the jar where they stored it. He went to the tower and picked a bottle of pickled mackerel, a bottle of pickles and potatoes.

Rick stood from his spot on the floor, folding blankets and Denise followed suit. They had the whole lighthouse looking as if no one had been here when Daryl nearly threw breakfast on the table. "Ain't as good as hers; fills the hole."

When they sat down, Denise smiled. "I envy you two. So self-sufficient."

Daryl snorted, shaking his head but refusing to look at anything but the plate in front of him.

Denise immediately shook her head, glancing at Rick who glanced back at her with a warning look, as if to say to let it go. But she couldn't, science was too important to her and her beliefs. "It's a bacterial infection – neither of you could've prevented it. Unstoppable but curable with antibiotics."

"Dig in." He said sarcastically, sidestepping that particular conversation. Nothing they could do or say would make him believe that this wasn't his fault, and he would spend the rest of his life trying to make it up to Beth when she woke up.

…

As soon as Beth opened her eyes, she felt something was not right.

And when her eyes finally focused and she became aware of the tubes hooked up to her hand and arm, panic rose. She sat up in bed, about to tear off the tape of the offending liquid that seeped into her veins.

"Wait!" A woman called, and when Beth's wide eyes flew to this absolute stranger in her house, the woman held out her hands as if in surrender, her eyes round and alert. "Daryl came to me – us. I'm with Rick, I'm a doctor."

Beth swiped at her eyes, taking in the scene that unfolded at the doctor's loud reaction. Both Daryl and Rick rushed in, and her arms lifting towards Daryl on their own accord. He didn't hesitate to sit on the bed with her, and she pulled herself into his chest.

Her throat hurt, her chest hurt and her mouth was so dry she didn't think she would be able to swallow ever again. She took comfort in Daryl's warm hand drawing soothing circles on her back as she tried to advert her eyes from looking at the IV tubes in her hand, which looked scarier than they really were.

When Rick sat on the other side of the bed, she smiled at him but didn't release her grip on Daryl. It had given her a fright, waking up attached to tubes that no longer existed in their life. Doctors weren't readily available, and medication was almost as hard to come by. Maybe her cold had been worse than she had thought.

"Here," the woman said patiently, as she handed Beth a mug of their fresh water. She didn't hesitate to put it up to her lips, groaning at the pain when she swallowed. "You're suffering from bacterial pneumonia. You'll be okay, but you'll be in some pain for a couple of days."

"Get her somethin'." Daryl snapped, his body going rigid. Beth clutched to him harder, and only when she felt his body relax, did she release her grip. So he added, "Please."

Rick watched the whole interaction, feeling oddly out of place as Denise began to check Beth over again fully. She listened to her chest with the stethoscope, and then her back. She handed her another mug full of water, before pulling the antibiotics out with a needle and syringe.

Beth immediately stiffened at the sight, and clutched impossibly tighter to Daryl. Relief washing over her as the woman pricked the needle in the bag that was still stuck to the headboard of their bed, medicine filling the dripper portion of the tube.

"That's all the antibiotics I have to give, but it should be enough to clear out your system." The woman explained as she fluttered around Beth, writing things down in a tiny notebook she had in the front of her white lab coat. "I'm going to give you a small drip of Ibuprofen, as well. It'll help with the chest pain and fever."

And Beth watched from Daryl's chest as the woman did what she said, sticking another needle in a glass bottle before injecting it into the bag attached to her arm.

"When the bag drips empty, I want you to try some of this." She instructed, leaving an almost full bottle of cough and congestion syrup on the nightstand. "About two tablespoons a day, or until the coughing subsides. And keep drinking as much water as you can."

"An' her arm?" Daryl asked, raising his eyebrows over the top of Beth's head. If a doctor was here, then he planned to take advantage.

"I noticed her left arm in my initial physical." Denise nodded, flipping back a page on her notepad. Her eyes furiously moved over the paper before she nodded. "It wasn't set exactly right, but it's definitely not worth an intentional fix."

He nodded at the information, catching a look from Rick but chose to ignore it as Beth burrowed her head further into his chest.

And Beth could hear Daryl asking the woman further questions, plus she really wanted to stay up and have a visit with Rick, but her eyelids were growing heavy. She felt safe – better than she had in a week, and Daryl's heartbeat in her ear was enough to lull her off to sleep.

…

Beth was tucked back in, and Denise was having a nap before they would return to Alexandria. Daryl was up in the tower fletching some arrows, the cat jumping for the feather every time he twirled it to wrap the twine around. The cat had been stuck to him since the night before, and he had to admit that it was nice to have company that didn't ask questions.

Rick had been having a sleep of his own, but Daryl couldn't say he was surprised when the man sat down beside him. It was silent between the two, the only sound was the crashing waves surrounding them and the flick of his knife.

"You know it ain't your fault, right?" Rick asked, glancing out to the walkers that ambled by on the other side of the shore. He had his weapons on his belt, and Daryl felt oddly naked with his crossbow downstairs, even though he knew he wouldn't need it.

He didn't respond, a glare was enough to get his message across.

"Well, it ain't." Rick answered his own question when he realized he wasn't going to get anything out of the younger man. "You heard Denise."

"Heard her a'right." Daryl snapped, something he had been unable to control in the last few days. Emotions were running high, and he still wasn't over the fact that he very well could have lost Beth from his own stupidity.

He couldn't think about losing her – it was unfathomable.

Daryl sucked in a deep breathe, pushing away Merle's cackle that rang inside of his head when he dug into his pocket, pulling out the ring that Maggie had given to him at the end of the summer. He hadn't planned on showing it to Rick, but the timing seemed right. He needed another perspective on this, and to him, there was no one better.

He handed it over without a word, watching his friends face intently as he studied the ring, turning it over and over in his hands. He couldn't help but feel like a fraud for having a ring for someone like Beth Greene, and his stomach recoiled at the thought of Hershel. Who certainly would never have approved scum like him to marry his perfect daughter.

Her sister though, she had started this whole thing.

"It was Maggie's." Daryl revealed, and Rick stopped moving the object around his fingers, suddenly frozen. A look passed over his face that Daryl may never fully understand, before he was handing the ring back over, his expression of grief and pain.

"Negan." Rick spit, his voice laced with more venom than Daryl had ever heard – even more so than the Governor, that had taken away their first real home since the beginning. But Daryl understood; what it felt like to hold yourself accountable for things that were far beyond ones control.

He understood what it felt like to take ownership of all the bad shit that happened, so he didn't say anything. There were no words of comfort for something like that.

"Can't say I saw this one coming." Rick admitted, giving Daryl a tiny smile that he allowed himself. His smile was sad, but he knew that it was more about Glenn than anything else.

Daryl agreed, nodding his head. "She lost her damn mind."

…

"Okay," Denise called to Beth, who was sitting up in bed with a mug of steaming mint water. They were finally back on track, and everyone woke up when the sun came up that morning. Daryl had made them a hasty breakfast of fried pickles and potatoes, and now they were gearing up to make the day's drive back to Alexandria. "Remember to turn this knob to close off the drip, and hold down onto the vein when you pull it out, okay?"

Beth nodded her approval, her white hands clasping to the steaming mug that Daryl had passed her that morning as soon as her eyes had opened. Denise had told her that her throat and chest may be sore for the next week or so, and hot liquids would aid in relief.

She hugged Rick when he came to her, whispering her thanks in a raspy voice. He had just patted her back, telling her something like 'anytime', even though she felt awful for making him come all the way out here from Alexandria.

She'd even hugged Denise, who awkwardly stood out of place as they all said their goodbyes, fully aware that there was history between the three that didn't include her. Beth had beckoned her over, wrapping her arms softly around the other woman as she crouched down beside the bed. She'd whispered her thanks to the doctor, smiling brightly as Denise tucked a candy in the covers with her.

"I usually save them for the little ones." Denise smiled, squeezing her arm one last time before she made her way to the door where Rick and Daryl were waiting. "But you deserve it."

…

"Shit Beth, you shouldn't be outta bed!"

Beth recoiled immediately, her vision blurring as she caught the edge of the sink to hold herself upright. She had thought that the dory trip there and back would have taken Daryl longer than it had, and her bladder had been busting.

Daryl quickly held her waist, assisting her in getting back to bed. The last thing he needed right now, while Rick and the doctor drove away from them, was for Beth to fall and crack her head open. But he hadn't meant to be so harsh, and he felt himself soften as she crossed her arms and ducked under the quilts.

It was midmorning, but Daryl didn't hesitate to crawl in after her. He stripped his pants and vest off, something he had kept on since he had brought Rick and Denise back, and when he finally crawled in the sheets, he felt himself relax for the first time in weeks. Her body heat engulfed him, and he tentatively spooned her back.

"I'm not an invalid. I can pee on my own." Her tiny voice was stern, but she didn't pull away from his embrace. Actually, she laced her fingers with his and relished in the feel of him letting his guard down now that they were alone.

"I know." Daryl agreed with her, pushing his forehead further into the back of her neck, wisps of blonde hair tickling his chin. "But let me take care of ya."

…

They slept right until that next morning, both exhausted.

The cat, who had been sleeping on the end of the bed with them, meowed as loud as either of them had ever heard. It was apparent why, when its claws made a scratching noise on the door to be let out, and Daryl humored it as he opened the door and watched it bound out into the sand.

When he glanced back to the bed, he was astonished to notice that even after two weeks in bed sick, Beth Greene looked like an angel. Blonde hair a halo mess around both their pillows, quilts pulled right up to her nose, and haunting blue eyes trained on him.

He made quick work of throwing a log into the dying fire, rubbing his hands together as the cat trotted back in, and going patiently to its bowl where Daryl threw in some pickled mackerel from one of their Mason jars. He felt his own stomach growl, but ignored it as he turned and climbed back into bed.

Beth's smile was instant as he made his way underneath the sheets, where he couldn't stop Beth from wrapping herself around him even if he had wanted to.

They stayed like that for a while, holding onto each other tight. The demons that plagued Daryl were back, running rapid as he clung to the too thin woman who had easily become his everything. Thoughts of how he didn't deserve any of this made his breath hitch, made his spine stiffen as she threw a leg over his.

Beth peaked at him through bleary eyes, realizing what was going on as she took in his puckered brow. "Don't."

His eyes that had been aimlessly staring at the wall turned towards her face, where he was a little confused as to why she was looking up at him with a stern and annoyed look. "What?"

"I see what you're doing." Beth replied, her voice thick from illness as she laid her head on her pillow, refusing to let go of him even if he shifted away from her. "You think it's your fault, and it's not."

When he fully disentangled himself from her, she knew that she had hit the head of the nail. But he didn't make a move to get out of the bed, and instead chose to stare at the ceiling as he chewed at his bottom lip. She watched him from her side of the bed, only a few inches separating them, but giving him the space he so obviously needed.

"Scared me, Beth." He revealed, his face blank but when he finally turned his gaze to her – oh his eyes were enough. His eyes showed just how scared he had been, how truly terrified he had been the last week when things took a turn for the worse. She watched as he ran a tired hand over his face. "Can't even think about not havin' ya here."

"Daryl, I'm – "

"Almost wasn't." Daryl cut her off, his face turning from stone to something that could only resemble terror. "I shoulda been faster realizin'. You shoulda told me."

His eyes were smoldering when he moved in one swift motion, pulling her flush against his chest as she froze in complete shock. He gripped her like she would run away and never come back, and after the initial shock, she pulled herself close too. Daryl didn't usually show much affection, and knew that her episode must have really scared him. From the feel of her throat, and not clearly being able to remember the past week, she knew that she must have been quite ill.

" _I ain't afraid 'a nothin'!"_

"I'm sorry." She whispered, but it only made him cling tighter to her.

"Don't you apologize, Greene, s'my fault." His voice was muffled in her hair when he responded, but it made her frown all the more. She breathed in the scent of him – musky, woodsy and entirely Daryl.

" _He's… he's everything."_

"I love you." She breathed, trying to count the seconds of silence that followed when his whole body went rigid in her arms. She had thought about telling him this more than once, but had always wanted the timing to be right. And when he glanced up at her like she had just sprouted a second head, she smiled.

She laughed as she burrowed her head back into his chest, not fazed at all.

 **TBC**

 **Thoughts?**


	24. Chapter 24

**Author's Note: Okay, so I got ahead of myself. There will be one chapter left after this, plus an epilogue that I've been working on.**

 **Paint the Silence**

 **Chapter Twenty Four**

" _I love you."_

Those words were stuck in his head from the moment she had said them. Engrained into his thoughts, his being – that had been the first time that he had _ever_ heard those words sincerely. He'd been too shocked to reply, too high up in the clouds to even dream of saying it back.

Beth Greene fucking _loved_ him.

He was probably the last person left on earth who deserved to be loved by someone like her, and he knew damn well that she had gone and lost her mind. The tiny piece of metal that Maggie had given him was growing heavier and heavier in his pocket, pushing him.

Pushing him to do something that he should've done long ago.

…

She was better, thanks to Daryl, Rick and Denise, the doctor at Alexandria.

Beth had coaxed it out of him, what exactly had happened while she had been under the deliriousness of the fever. She had gritted her teeth, clenched her fists at the realization how many people had risked their lives to come to the lighthouse for her.

She had been smart enough to keep to herself, when she came to the conclusion that everyone should've let nature take its course. The angry look that Daryl had given her when she had tried to comfort him had been enough to know that the topic was still extremely raw.

And it probably would be, for a while anyways.

So she went about her business, politely ignoring when Daryl grumbled that she was doing too much work in the beginning. She made sure that a window was always open, and she drank enough water to drive her bladder crazy. The bottle of cough medicine that Denise had given her worked wonders, and soon her wheezy cough was gone all together.

She spent much needed time with Jade, lazing on the couch while the cat rolled around her chest looking for chin scratches. She cooked, she cleaned, and she made sure to recheck their inventory in the tower. Daryl refused to let her wash clothes outside in the cold, but she really didn't mind as he grabbed the basket of laundry from her, grunting something about going back to bed.

Winter was still going strong, and the snow had finally fallen. They didn't experience as much as they did back at the house on the cul-de-sac, but Beth knew that was because of the ocean and the different climates. The only thing that it seemed they had to do, was to fetch firewood, cook meals and boil down water. Of which they had plenty of fresh water available, with the snow falling softly.

And read. She read a lot in the winter; anything that she could get her hands on.

Beth had been knee deep into a copy of The Scarlet Letter, a number that she had read more than once in her short life, when Daryl had shuffled in. The breeze he let in with him made her pull her sweater a little tighter around her neck, burrowing deeper under the blankets she had sprawled out on the couch with Jade.

She watched him shuck his wet boots and socks, putting them beside the Home Comfort stove to dry out, and then began to rub his hands together over the burners. "Got two more totes 'a wood. Only last a few days if this keeps up."

Beth shrugged, unfazed. The dory was a tough little thing that could withstand the winter swells, and Daryl always seemed to forget that they had a stack of emergency wood piled as high as the ceiling just outside. It was more of something to do for him, and she never commented. She put her marker in the book, setting it on her lap.

There didn't need to be words spoken as she opened one side of the blankets for him, and he was quick to situate himself on the tiny couch. She didn't hesitate to lean against his side, grabbing the book and opening it to a completely different page than she had been reading from initially.

Daryl let his eyes close as he listened to her read, her soft voice almost enough to coax him off to sleep, if it wasn't for the story that she was telling.

…

Spring had sprung, and it was a sign that there was work to be done.

Beth was busy preparing the garden, turning leaves into mulch, filling the bathtub back up with water to get their crops going. Spring was her favourite time of year, and there was nothing quite as comforting as starting the process of their summer preparations.

Daryl was messing with the fishing trap that lobsters had begun to wander in to again for the season, the wintery cold water the perfect time to hone in on the little shellfish. Fish hadn't begun to swim yet, and he had been taking the time to prepare his rods, lines and hooks.

He'd made a trip across to the mainland yesterday, getting the leaves that Beth was now making into mulch. He would help her when he was finished with the pot for the day, as it was certainly not easy work to get everything ready.

They didn't have the means of shredding the leaves any other way but by hand, and it took time. Their hands were always raw by the time it was ready to be layered on the ground, but when the soil was ready to be planted, they would forget the amount of effort it took.

She always let the mulch mature for a week or two, watering the ground without planting the seeds. Beth had told him that it had something to do with not having proper fertilizer, but he wasn't too concerned.

That girl could make anything grow.

…

The spring and summer months went by so fast, that Daryl did a double take when he glanced at Beth's calendar hanging on the wall.

It was already mid-August, they had most of their fish bottled and were working on their pickles, lettuce, potatoes and carrots. He made sure that Beth got out of the tiny little kitchen this season, gently guiding her out the door and into the ocean air when he noticed sweat pouring off her forehead. He was more determined now than ever to make sure that she was feeling okay.

Today was just another day to him, another day of cracking shellfish in bowls where Beth would then take them and bottle them for the season. His hands would be sore and itchy by the time he was done, and Beth would always make sure to squeeze his shoulders and let her lips graze his cheek when he was done.

He washed his hands as he watched Beth stick the tops of the filled bottles in a pot of boiling water to give it a lasting seal, her face blossoming into a huge smile when the last one made the telltale popping noise; sealed for the season. Their meat storage was almost done – the only thing he had left to do was try and track a deer.

Salt cured jerky was a great winter snack, and a pleasant change from fish. Not exactly necessary, but definitely worth it.

Beth was the one who dealt with the vegetables mostly, but he was the one who sat at the table and cut them in small pieces to fit into the jars. Beth had told him that there was at least a month left of growing time, and they only picked what they planned to have for meals.

"There." Beth declared, putting the last bottle of lobster on the countertop to cool off before she would ask him to take them to the cool tower. "Shellfish is done for this year."

"'Bout time." Daryl joked, throwing her the dishtowel when she was finished washing her own hands. The sweat was pouring off the both of them, the blistering heat of both the sun and the piping fire taking its toll on their bodies. Even the cat was sleeping outside somewhere in the shade, the little house a hellfire. "Take an afternoon off?"

Beth looked at him with a wide smile. "Can we afford a day off?"

"T'hell with it." Daryl shrugged, venturing out into the sand and feeling the immediate soothing ocean breeze. Beth followed after him, her eyes curious and shining of mischief. They had so much to do in these few short month, but dammit they deserved a break.

A real break – one where they could put surviving on hold and relax.

Jade bounded over to them when she caught sight of them, playfully bouncing off Beth's legs as the cat exerted some energy. Beth laughed, tearing off after the cat that adored the attention it was getting, turning around to make sure Beth was following it.

Daryl watched on for a moment before he stripped down to his shorts and shirt, and waded waist deep into the water. It was startlingly cold, and the ocean never got much warmer than this, but it made his flaming hot skin release its heat, and it didn't take long for him to dunk his head completely.

When he resurfaced, he wasn't expecting the splash of water that hit his face. He sputtered for a second, disoriented and alert, before he heard the manic giggles of Beth, who was running as fast as she could in the water that reached her ribs.

"You're done, Greene!" He called, swiping at his eyes before he began his chase.

It didn't take long to catch her, and it didn't take much effort to pick her up over his shoulder, and send her splashing a few feet away. Her giggles were contagious, and he couldn't ever remember his face hurting because of a smile.

When her blonde head bobbed up, her smile was blinding. "Okay, I deserved that."

He nodded his response as she waded her way over to him, his throat suddenly constricted as he took her in. Her white blonde hair plastered to her head, her little grey tank top that was like a second skin leaving little to the imagination. She had stripped her shorts before entering the water, and Daryl couldn't even think about that.

She waded her way right in front of him, wrapping her goose bumped arms around his waist. Her body heat was instant, even if the waters around them had made his legs and feet numb a while back. She pressed her face to his chest, giving him a quick squeeze.

Daryl picked her up without any protest, much like he had back at the funeral home. He waded out of the water, setting her down on her feet in the sand. The cat was chasing the gulls that threatened to land over their garden, and the sound of the waves was therapeutic.

She watched him as he stepped away from her, the air suddenly changing around them as Daryl turned around, his back facing Beth. He had on a black t-shirt, something that he rarely took off. And certainly didn't take off in front of anyone – not even Beth after all this time.

His back, they were _his_ demons to deal with, no one else's.

They'd lived together for years, and had been on the run with each other for even longer. Beth wasn't blind, and had seen small fragments of the scars that peaked out through his cut off shits, but yet she stood frozen as he pulled the soaked shirt over his head.

His back was a mauled mess, and she was completely silent as she took it in. She listened to whatever he told her – remembered everything about him. He'd let it slip more than once that his father hadn't been a good man, and she had always assumed that he would tell her more when he was ready.

Daryl stood stoic, unmoving and not breathing as he waited for everything to finally come to an end. For Beth to run away from him in disgust – in shame. For the declaration that she'd rather live somewhere like Hilltop or Alexandria; where her sister and nephew were.

When her cold fingers touched his shoulder, his skin was scorched. She turned him around, placing her hand on his cheek, tilting his head so that she could look at him directly.

"I love you." Beth said for the second time, running her hands softly along his chest where tinier marks dotted his skin. Little flecks of white where the belt had nicked, chest hair dark and skin a massive contrast to his tanned arms and neck.

Daryl kneeled down, picking up his shorts and fished into the little pocket that he had kept Maggie's ring in since the summer before. The metal was cool to the touch as he pulled it out and hid it in his palm, glancing nervously up at Beth who was looking just as confused as he felt.

He couldn't make words come out, he couldn't say anything he wanted to as he wordlessly handed off the ring to Beth's palm. He watched her face intently as she studied the item he had dropped into her palm, holding his breath.

"Oh my God." She whispered, her wide eyes immediately filling with unshed tears as she launched herself into his arms. Her grip on his neck was strong but brief as she pulled back again, her hands shaking as she studied the ring.

Daryl let himself breathe as he rubbed her back. "S'Maggie's."

Beth froze in place, staring down at the ring as if it would self-destruct at any given second. He watched solemnly as the tears began to file down her face, having enough sense to catch a few of them with the back of his hand.

After a moment, and after she took a shaky breath in, she handed the ring back to Daryl. She outstretched her left hand to him, and hell he fumbled for a full minute straight before he got that thing on her finger.

"It's perfect." She whispered, glancing between his face and the ring that was now on her finger. It was too big, it even looked too big and flashy for her, but her watery smile said otherwise as she once again threw her arms around him.

And when he initiated a kiss for the very first time, all was forgotten that he couldn't find the words.

 **TBC**

 **Thoughts? I feel like they deserved this slow burn.**


	25. Chapter 25

**Author's Note: Honestly, I've never been so committed to telling a story before, and it's ALL because of my reviewers. You guys are the reason I do this; the reason for a lot of things.**

 **While this** _ **is**_ **technically the final chapter of the original, I can assure you that there is more to come. I have an Epilogue that has turned into its own story, and I will continue to post those here (and countless oneshots that you guys gave me inspiration for, I'm sure).**

 **Paint the Silence**

 **Chapter Twenty Five**

His head nicked the headboard as he fell back onto the bed, letting out an annoyed curse around her lips that had been attached since they had been outside.

The ring kept catching the sun, and even though Beth's eyes were closed and she was completely concentrated on him, he couldn't help but open his eyes to glance at the shining rock. The shining rock that _he_ had put on _her_ finger.

And hell he wasn't complaining that Beth was on top of him, her lips assaulting his, but as soon as his back had hit the bed, the nerves had settled in. This was real, and he had just asked Beth Greene to fucking marry him.

Beth sat up for a moment, breaking their lips apart with a blinding smile on her face. "Is this okay?"

He cursed himself internally for making her think that this wasn't okay, and pushed the thoughts of how this had gone last time away. He wasn't planning on running anymore; he had nothing left to hide from the woman who sat comfortably on his hipbones, glancing down at him with what had turned into a nervous smile.

She had seen absolutely everything. And she was still here; with him.

It didn't take much effort to take dominance, rolling them over where he placed a soft kiss on her forehead. His words caught in his throat, and he struggled for a full minute before he took a deep breath. She was watching him, curious eyes rather than impatient.

And her eyes watered as he finally shoved the foreign words passed his lips.

"Love ya." It was a whisper, and his raspy voice broke. But when he caught her eyes again, they were welling with unshed tears and he felt the need to prove it to her. "More'n anything."

The smile that broke out on her face was watery, before she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled their lips together again. And then it was a battle for release as articles of clothing came off one by one.

It was slow and their lips were bruised by the time their upper bodies were flush against each other. And even though both of them were inexperienced by all means, they melded together like a long lost lover, two souls that belonged together right there on the rickety cast iron bed.

Every end of her hair stood on end, and Beth was on an edge she's never been before. His rough palms were hesitant and slow – he didn't push and he certainly didn't make her feel uncomfortable or scared. It was nothing like the one experience she had to go by, and she didn't think that she would ever push away Daryl's cautiously wandering hands like she had to Jimmy behind the barn.

His stubble stimulated a being within herself that she hadn't known she possessed, and as he made his way up from her collarbone to her neck, she pushed him over and quickly gained control again.

Their clothes were still soaked and plastered to them from the swim they had taken, and when Beth sat bare chested on his hipbones this time, there was no denying anything. She held her breathe for a moment as he stilled, his eyes moving from her eyes and roaming down.

She suddenly felt self-conscious, and just before she was about to throw an arm around herself, Daryl let out an animalistic growl that was so uncharacteristic of himself that her eyes widened in shock. And despite herself, she let out a little squeak as he gripped her hips firmly and flipped them back over.

His lips were on hers instantly, and she closed her eyes in pure utopia as the rough flesh of his palm cupped her chest. His movements were slow, calculated and precise. It was everything that she knew Daryl Dixon would be, and he had her arching from the bed in minutes as he moved on to the other.

When she gasped, his smirk was wide.

"Okay," Beth declared as she squirmed under him, feelings that she had never felt before rushing through her entire system in gushes of desire. He allowed her to sit up, where she made quick work of discarding the sopping black shirt he had let fall over his back again.

He only paused for a second, his eyes flashing before they were completely focused back on her, thoughts of the demons that ran prominent on his back forgotten. And he wasn't quite sure why he grabbed for her wrist where her bracelets were, and he only had to look at Beth for a moment to know that she was comfortable with him, too.

When he tugged the last beaded bracelet off, he caught her eye as he brought her wrist up to his lips. Her whole body was tingling as she shuffled closer to him, running her thumb along one of the nasty scars where the belt had hit over his shoulder blade.

No words were said, but it was as if they were cherishing the parts of each other that had changed their lives – giving each other parts of themselves that hadn't been whole to begin with.

Daryl played with the ring on her finger, their eyes locking.

And only when they were down to their last undergarments, nothing but a thin layer of fabric separating them, did Daryl push back, lifting himself completely off of her where he had been comfortably pinning her to the bed.

"Wasn't the intention." Daryl huffed out, both of their breathing laboured as they connected eyes. She was wildly beautiful, her drying hair scattered all around them, her lips swollen and plump. She looked like some sort of Greek goddess to him, and his heart clenched. "The ring. Wasn't trying to –"

"I know." She cut him off, trailing her hands down his chest. His breathe hitched as her cold fingertips hit the top of his waistband, and he had to find some sort of inner strength that he didn't know he had, as he stilled her hands.

"Want you to be sure." He stated, shaking his head to get all of her attention. "Ain't no rush."

Beth's eyes softened as she took him in, moving her hands back to his face, where she cupped his cheeks. Her eyes were starting to fill again, and he had the thought to wipe away a stray tear that blinked out of her eye.

"I love you." She whispered, smoothing out his brow with her thumb as he watched her changing emotions. "And this – you – are perfect."

He swallowed roughly, an odd sensation floating across his body as he leaned over her and the side of the bed, taking a moment for his hand to come in contact with what he had stuffed under the mattress months ago after the first mishap had happened.

Daryl awkwardly brought the box into view, and Beth perked up immediately before grabbing a foil square for herself. She wasn't awkward, and she didn't shy away even when a blush erupted across her face in a deep crimson.

"Not yet." Daryl chastised, pushing her softly back on the bed where they helped each other discard the final articles of clothing that stood in the way.

The buildup was slow, tantalizing, and by the time his thumb finally brushed over her, she was convulsing and melting into him embarrassingly quick. Daryl watched on in pure amazement that he had that sort of control over her body, the ability to draw out those wonderful sounds that escaped her lips all at once.

It wasn't like he had done this before – maybe he wasn't exactly innocent. But he definitely had never touched someone like this before; he'd never wanted to, and hell he hardly even touched the girls Merle would send his way. Those encounters were more in and out; literally.

He certainly hadn't fondled a woman in bed for close to an hour, and never in his life had he felt the touch of skin on skin that he was willing to feel with Beth. More than willing – he _wanted_ to do all these things with her. Over and over again until they couldn't function anymore.

When Beth finally came down and refocused, she looked at him as if he held the fucking sun.

"Wow." She whispered, running a hand over her face as she suddenly became shy.

This time, he didn't stop her as she reached for the foil packet.

…

Both were quiet, wrapped up in each other amongst the tangled sheets and blankets.

Beth had cried, Daryl had nearly broken the headboard, and he was pretty sure that he had never felt so _close_ to someone in his entire life. At the moment, it was hard to tell where his body stopped and hers started, limps intertwined together comfortably.

She was drawing lazy patterns on his chest, connecting the dotted scars, but he didn't mind. He had her pulled tight against his side and was staring at the ceiling when she looked up at him with a questioning glance.

"That was okay, right?"

Daryl shook his head, unable to help the puff of laughter that pass his lips. "Girl, that was more'n okay. Are you a'right?"

She squirmed a little, her face scrunching a little at the movement. "A little sore."

Daryl rolled to face her, brushing a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear as he studied her face. There was no regret there, and she wasn't in a tremendous amount of pain – yet guilt prickled up his spine like thorns. "I told ya to stop me if –"

"Shh." She cut him off, pecking his lips quickly with hers before she settled back comfortable against his chest. "Don't. Everything was perfect."

And he didn't say anything else to that, watching Beth's face intently as she slowly drifted off to sleep in the crook of his shoulder.

…

When Beth woke, her stomach was growling and the cat was asleep at their feet.

Daryl was still softly snoring beside her, and she took a moment to sweep the hair from his face. She knew he was an extremely light sleeper, but before her hand even came in contact with his skin, his eyes were open and watching her.

"Sorry." She mumbled, burrowing deeper into his embrace as she blushed like a school girl who had just been caught. Lying in bed with a naked man was something so entirely new that it hadn't mattered how much time they had spent together, she still felt the blush creep across her skin.

Daryl smirked, rolling over and throwing an arm around her side, pulling her to him and trying to ignore how incredible it felt when their skin melded together. "How long we been out?"

He had noticed that the sun was completely down, and they had fallen asleep sometime during the late afternoon. He was wondering if it was worth it to get up to have dinner, or to roll back over and wait until breakfast.

Beth shrugged, stretching herself out in his arms until he grabbed her by the waist to halt her actions. She smirked as she felt what he had been trying to avoid, and couldn't help the smug expression that donned on her face.

"Yeah, yeah." Daryl muttered, embarrassed but also completely comfortable with her. He rolled his eyes at her look. "Ain't exactly a secret anymore."

She laughed at that, and he smiled as well when her giggles hit his ear. Daryl couldn't remember ever feeling so renewed – so content and cozy. He couldn't ever remember not wanting to get out of bed when his eyes opened; couldn't remember ever wanting to lose himself within another person.

Beth bit her lip, watching the emotions play over Daryl's face. This was all so new, and she certainly didn't want to overstep her place and chance him panicking, but couldn't help as her hand slowly trailed down the middle of his chest.

The hair there was fine, and she knew she was teasing him because he looked up at her with warning eyes. She tested that, however, and inched her hand further south. And just when she was near her target, he gripped her hips and had her pinned against the bed.

This time, there was no mistaking his excitement.

Just when his lips made contact with the side of her neck, her stomach let out an awful growl that halted things abruptly.

"C'mon." Daryl kissed her forehead, standing and retrieving his shorts as he calmed himself down, glancing at her confused expression at his sudden disappearance. "Gotta feed ya to keep your energy up."

Beth full out laughed at that. "Is that right?"

He nodded, taking the hand she threw out to him and tugged her sheet wrapped self out of bed.

…

"I'd say it's just passed midnight." Daryl declared as he entered the little house again, from where he had been up in the tower trying to get a better glimpse at where the moon was in the sky. "Mm, smells good in here."

Beth smiled at that, flipping over the potato patties that she had fried until crispy. Daryl had tried to help at first, but when he had started to mash the potatoes with his fist instead of a fork, she had shooed him out with promises that it would be done soon.

The cat meowed softly from its bowl, and Beth didn't hesitate to pop open a bottle of the salted mackerel they had stored in the tower just that morning. She didn't waste time in dishing some out, and petted the cats head when it nudged her leg before returning to the fish.

Daryl went around doing some of the chores that they had neglected that day, but immediately went to the table when she placed the crispy potato patties on the table, bringing a jar of her relish with her. Her wide smile was blinding as he grabbed for her hand, helpless to stop his thumb from caressing her knuckles as she whispered her usual Grace.

And when Grace was over, he didn't let go of her hand.

 **FIN**

 **Thoughts?**


	26. Epilogue Part 1

**Author's Note: I'm not sure how many parts the Epilogue will have – I have two parts (including this one) completed, and one I'm still working on. We'll see how much interest there is, and go from there.**

 **Epilogue**

 **Part One**

"Aunt Beth! Uncle Daryl!"

Beth's head whipped to the other side of the shore, from where she had been tending to the daffodils that she had planted over Jade's grave years back. They blossomed every year, and she no longer felt a dark void in her heart when she looked at the little cross Daryl had made for their beloved pet.

There was undeniably something missing from their lives, but as time went on Beth began to feel less grief, choosing to be thankful for the time they had with the perfect little pet. Chose to be thankful that she had been able to get the poor thing in the house on the cul-de-sac. Thankful that Jade had been able to spend her last few years safe, warm and with a full belly.

Her heart was instantly in her throat as she stood, racing to the ocean. "Junior?"

Daryl came out of the lighthouse immediately at the sound of voices, eyes going wide as he took in what was unfolding in front of him. "Junior? What the hell you doing out here, boy?"

But he didn't wait for an answer, because he was untying the dory and pushing it into the water before Junior had a chance to respond.

…

When they reached the shore, Daryl was still fuming. "The hell you mean, they don't know?"

Junior looked about as pale as he could get, his eyes a little widened at the rough man's outburst. He was sitting in the back of the dory, but jumped out as soon as Daryl did to give a hand in pushing the dory back on shore. He'd been here quite a few times, and he knew the drill.

Beth hugged Junior when he was close enough, pulling him in and holding him tight.

"Don't get comfortable. Yer goin' back." Daryl growled, storming passed them and into the lighthouse, the door shutting behind him with a bang. Beth knew that he had been working on restringing his crossbow before Junior had shown up unannounced at the lighthouse, something he couldn't particularly drop without starting all over again.

But Beth knew that's not why he was mad; not at all.

Junior looked crestfallen, his face slouching as he turned back to his aunt. "I didn't mean to upset anyone, really Aunt Beth."

Beth smiled, patting Junior's shoulder as she sat in the sand and invited him to sit beside her. The young teen looked troubled, and Beth remembered being there herself not long ago. She figured in the old world that she would be around twenty eight now, but age really was just a number that didn't matter anymore.

"So, what's going on?" Beth asked gently; she had a different approach than Daryl did. And she was sure it would be a different approach than her sister would use, when she found him. "You must know you have people worried about you."

Junior sighed heavily, slamming his fist in the sand. He may look exactly like a replica of his father, but his temper was all Greene.

"I'm so tired of people looking at me like I'm some sort of miracle." His voice was angry, wound up. But just as quick as the anger came, it deflated. "I want to know what happened to my father."

Beth froze, looking at her nephew's face. This conversation wasn't one that he should have with his aunt, and it certainly wasn't her place to tell him about Glenn. This was a conversation that she was genuinely surprised to find that Maggie hadn't already delivered.

"Aunt Beth." He whispered, noticing her hesitance immediately. "I've already asked Mom. She won't tell me! I _need_ to know."

She sighed, patting her nephew's knee as she stood, wiping the sand from her shorts. "C'mon Junior – I'll make us some tea. Don't worry about your Uncle."

…

Junior didn't hesitate to help his aunt get things sorted out on the table, pulling everything down with familiarity.

Daryl had ventured to the tower when they started to fiddle around with the stove, and Junior had given Beth a sad glance. He loved his uncle, and it was easy to see that the young version of Glenn looked up to Daryl.

"He's just worried for everyone." Beth tried to console, trying to give him a warm smile as she thought about the hysterics her sister would be in by now. "And it was wrong to run away like that."

"I know." He whispered, slouching over the cup of steaming mint water that Beth had placed out in front of him. She had a big batch of seafood chowder on the stove, the pot filled to the brim, and she dished him out a portion of that too. "Thanks."

Beth took her own mug of water, sitting in the seat across from Junior even though it wasn't the one she usually sat in. She didn't have a second to think of what to say before he was shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

"Is Uncle Daryl really mad at me?" He asked, his voice low and upset. The boy, who was no more than thirteen, looked at her with wide eyes. Each and every time Beth visited with him, it was like stepping back to the farm when Glenn had looked young and baby faced.

And of course Daryl had a loud bark, but when it came to Junior, she knew he'd never bite.

"He's mad at what you did, not you." Beth answered, trying to play all sides. She could understand everyone's point of view right now – especially Junior's.

"I had to!" Junior's young voice rose in octaves, the frustration that came with the age she knew, showing clear on his face. "I asked a million times, Aunt Beth! No one will tell me what happened, they just keep saying that there was an accident. Why can't they tell me?"

Beth sucked in a breath. This wasn't her place.

She remembered being this age – back before the world had ended, of course, but it had still been a rough time in life. It was a time when things were black or white, it was a time when kids became young adults, and often became over confident in their abilities too quickly.

Walking clean from Hilltop to the lighthouse by himself? Probably meant that Junior was experiencing the same thing. And that made her think about Carl, and how he had been so hell bent to be beyond his age. How he'd drove both Lori and Rick insane at the farm.

"Your uncle and I weren't around when it happened, Junior. I don't know the details, and I've never asked." Beth tried to smooth over, feeling extremely guilty as his shoulders slumped and defeat crossed his features.

The truth was, she knew what had happened to Glenn. But it wasn't exactly a lie when she had said that she didn't ask – because she hadn't. Maggie had been at the lighthouse one summer, and Junior had been around four when her older sister had finally opened up about what had really happened the night Negan cornered them.

The full, horrible, story.

How could she possibly sit here and tell this sweet kid that his Dad had his head smashed in with a baseball bat?

"I'm sorry for scaring everyone." Junior sighed, no further ahead in his investigation, and now he had a whole community searching for him.

…

"Hey." Beth whispered as she hit the top of the tower stairs.

Tempers had simmered over dinner, and apologies had been made. Beth had sat back at the table, suddenly not hungry anymore as Junior all but begged Daryl for his forgiveness. And Daryl had only kept his stone face for a moment before it cracked.

"Y'know you're always welcome here, kid." He had revealed, his voice raspy and strained. "But it ain't safe on your own."

"I know, I'm sorry." Junior had quipped back, nodding his head as if to agree with his uncle. His eyes were wide and his expression was sincere. "It won't happen again I promise."

Daryl had nodded, and then all was forgotten. For that night, anyways. Beth was positive that the boy had tons of explaining left to do.

"Hey." Daryl called back, looking over his shoulder at his wife who was making her way to him. He didn't hesitate to push over on the bench to accommodate her. "S'late."

Beth shrugged, comfortably situating herself against his side as he threw an arm around her. "Can't sleep."

They were quiet as they took comfort in each other's arms, both glancing out to the other side of the shore where a few extremely thin walkers wandered aimlessly. The walkers didn't lay down and die, but without a steady source of food they were looking as if they would disintegrate any day now, and were less of a threat than they had been before. Now they just sort of ambled after you, with no real drive.

Times were different, perhaps easier, than they had been in the beginning, but life was still survival of the fittest.

"Mm," Daryl agreed, pulling her closer to him as she rested her head on his shoulder. "Kid's got us all riled up."

Beth shrugged, craning her neck for a second to glance at his face. "He wants to know what happened to Glenn."

Daryl stilled his movements of pulling her closer and getting comfortable on the stool. She felt the inhale of breath he took, and she stilled too. They didn't talk about their time on the run much, and they certainly didn't bring up the deaths of their apocalypse family, either. It was like an unspoken truth between them, they focused on each other and what they had, not what they had lost.

"Phew." Daryl passed a breath through his lips, regaining his posture as he moved back on the bench, tucking her into his side. He squirmed for another moment before he added "Ain't our place."

Beth nodded her head, agreeing fully. "I know. I think maybe I should talk to Maggie, when she gets here."

"Y'think she'll come here to look?" He asked, the other hand that wasn't around her going to his lip. After all these years, Daryl still had the same nervous quarks.

Beth shrugged. "I don't know."

Daryl sighed, before standing and offering his hand to her. "C'mon. Let's get some sleep before everythin' blows up 'round here."

…

"Beth!" The frantic yell came from the shore the very next morning, and she had motioned at Junior and Daryl to stay put at the table before she stood and went outside.

Even from a distance, she could tell Maggie was a wreck.

"He's here Maggie! Hold on!" Beth yelled back across the water, Maggie instantly crumbling to her knees at the news that her son was safe on the island with her sister and brother in law. She had others piling out of the Range Rover that she had brought here, and Beth felt her chest tighten.

She quickly popped her head in the lighthouse, and was met with Junior's terrified irises. Daryl only glanced at her before he was nodding his head, shoving the rest of his potatoes in his mouth before standing.

It only took him a minute to get the dory untied and in the water, the current quickly carrying him over to the other side where Beth watched Maggie jump in without hesitation. She could tell from where she was standing that her sister was on a warpath, and Junior would be in for it.

…

Both Maggie and Junior's faces were red by the time they descended the tower stairs, breaking the awkward silence that Beth and Daryl had endured since she had shown up. Random people who had been helping her search for Junior littered the opposite side of the lighthouse, putting Daryl on edge.

He'd gritted his teeth when walkers were drawn to the ruckus they were making, watching on with thinning patience as the young men swung at the impending walkers, carrying on with one another, their laughs echoing off the surrounding water.

Like I was all a big joke to them.

They had tried to ignore the high pitched yells coming from the very top of their home, Beth puttering around the stove and Daryl pacing between windows, where he glared out to the other side and the men that now lazed in the water.

"Well." Maggie declared, her voice holding much less conviction than it had when she had pointed to Junior upon her arrival, telling him to _get_ upstairs before she sent him to be walker bait. "Junior has something to say to you guys."

Beth watched on with a raised eyebrow as her nephew came in front of them, his head bowed and shoulders hunched in defeat. "I'm sorry Uncle Daryl and Aunt Beth."

She noticed immediately that Daryl wasn't going to reply, and she quickly jumped into action as she threw an arm around the kid that was practically standing at her height, side eyeing the guilty look that Maggie was giving them. "I think you've already apologized more than enough, Junior. Why don't you and Uncle Daryl take the dory across and tell those boys to quiet down."

Junior, who had a newfound sense of pride at the task his aunt handed off to him, nodded at Daryl who opened the door for him, leaving the woman behind in the kitchen.

As soon as Daryl shut the door behind him, not without a glance at Beth as if to say he hoped she knew what she was doing, Maggie collapsed in one of the kitchen table chairs, head in her hands. And of course Beth knew that her older sister wasn't made of stone, wasn't subjected to always having herself together.

But when she started to really sob, Beth couldn't say she didn't feel awkward.

"How am I supposed to tell him his father got his head smashed in with a baseball bat, by some crazy lunatic that his mother killed?" She asked, her voice as broken as Beth had ever heard it. Maggie shook her head, rubbing her face. "Haven't I paid my dues yet? Why do I keep getting punished?"

Beth sighed, her own face puckered in distress as she sat down beside her sister, running a soothing hand over her back. Words coming from her mouth before she really had time to process them. "Had you not been there, would you have wanted to know what happened to Daddy?"

No matter how much time went on, Hershel Greene was a sore spot to not only the sisters, but everyone that had been around in the prison era.

Her sister was silent for a moment, and just when Beth was about to apologize for overstepping her line, Maggie was nodding. Looking at her with teary eyes, but with a new level of understanding behind her vibrant green irises.

"Yeah, I would want to know."

And Beth returned the hug Maggie threw herself into, clutching just as tightly to her sister.

 **TBC**

 **Thoughts? Originally I wrote the scene where Jade passes away, but I didn't have the heart to post.**


	27. Epilogue Part 2

**Author's Note: You guys are awesome. More yet to come.**

 **Epilogue**

 **Part Two**

Although they were careful, life had a way of throwing curveballs.

She had been aware of the small changes her body was making, but she had chalked that up to the blistering summer weather and humid air. Her ankles were swollen because it was hot – she felt bloated because their meals were large and food was plentiful this time of year.

Mornings that she felt queasy were because of the pool of sweat she would wake up in – the fire dead but the heat of their dinner lingering from the night before. Random dizziness was because she had been hunched over the garden for so long in the heat, and it was just a normal reaction.

But the morning that she stood in front of the bathroom mirror, Daryl still passed out in bed with the blankets fitfully kicked away, she knew.

She _knew_.

…

She went ahead with her own business that morning, her emotions resting openly on her face. Amazement – nervousness, complete and utter shock all wrapped into one.

Her left hand was planted firmly on the little bump that had seemingly spouted overnight, as she moved around the kitchen with utmost familiarity. She worked on the already opened mason jars before she fetched a few more from the tower, throwing a piece of wood on the fire and watching it catch immediately from the leftover embers still glowing in the bottom of the Home Comfort stove.

Their garden had expanded significantly since trading with Alexandria and Hilltop became available, and now they had vegetables like onions, cabbage, beans, peas – so much more, along with their staples they still took seriously like potatoes, carrots and cucumbers. Canning was still hard work, but they hadn't gone a winter hungry yet; nor where they planning to, as their tower pantry grew more and more every year.

Daryl didn't stay in bed long, and when she glanced back at the bed it was empty, the door open. Even after all these years, he still treaded so softly that she could never keep track of where he was or what he was doing.

Although she knew the island wasn't that big, and he was mostly likely doing what he did every other morning of the summer. Which meant that she only had another few minutes to figure out how to break the news to him.

…

A week went by, and she still hadn't told him.

The words would stick on the tip of her tongue whenever she tried to relay the message to him; her body physically incapable of passing along the information that was just as much his business as her own.

It was wrong to keep it from him, and every plan she may have had to tell him went out the window when he came back one afternoon with a prepared possum hanging over his shoulder. He'd thrown it into the sink like he always did – and she didn't think anything of it until it was dinner time and she had to actually start cooking the thing.

As soon as she was done heaving in the little toilet in the middle of the room, she knew that she had some explaining to do. Not only to explain this little episode that had Daryl watching her with wide and alarmed eyes, but to clear her own conscious as well.

She couldn't hide it any longer.

"You a'right?" Daryl asked, his voice strained with concern. He had one hand on her back from where she was still leaned over the bowl, the other under her arm as he crouched down to really assess the situation.

Flashbacks of Beth's phenomena paralyzed him as she finished heaving the contents of her stomach, grimacing before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. He easily helped her moved into a sitting position, her back leaning against the tiny sink that accompanied the toilet.

Beth took a deep breath in, watching Daryl's face closely as unwanted tears sprung to her eyes. "I think I'm pregnant."

…

"Daryl, no."

But it was futile as she watched him pack their bags defiantly, not stopping for a moment to even listen to her as he gathered their clothes into one big pack.

She was still sitting on the floor of the tiny bathroom area, no energy to stand, no motivation to seek him out. As soon as the words that slipped passed her lips, he had become stone. His face went blank, his skin pale; his eyes far off as he turned away from her without even a second glance.

Beth was choking on her own emotions as she watched him pack them both up, wrapping the last bits of their filled mason jars in their clothes before shoving them into the bag. His face was solid – his eyes hard as he glanced back at her sobs.

"We're goin'. Get ready."

Beth rubbed the tiny bump as the lighthouse door slammed shut behind him. This wasn't how she ever pictured this going.

…

They kept a car for emergencies now, ever since the pneumonia incident, and Daryl threw the passenger side open for her without a glance, quickly changing direction and throwing their gear in the back seat. They kept it parked at the old garden center, where they had found the means to start their garden.

Beth climbed in dejectedly, curling herself into a ball and leaning her head against the window as she waited for Daryl to get in.

Her crops would wilt in the heat without water, and they were missing out on the schools of fish that swam passed their island this time of year. There were mason jars to be filled, food to be preserved and plants to be tended to.

Yet, they were indefinitely on the way to Alexandria, with no telling of when they would return.

When Daryl slammed the car door behind him, shifting in the driver seat, she jumped. She didn't turn her head to look at him, even if she could tell that he was looking at her. She could tell that he wanted to say something, but didn't know how.

And Beth usually helped coax the words out of him, but right at this moment, she didn't want to hear a word.

…

Beth hadn't spoken a word to him since the island, and they had been sitting in Denise's office for the better half of an hour waiting for the doctor to return from her daily rounds.

The white room smelled of what she remembered a doctor's office should, alcohol and sterilized metal. The lights were too bright – artificial and white, reflecting off the shining floors enough to make her head hurt. There were containers of tongue presses, syringes and cotton pads on the shelves, certificates of university's that no longer existed showing off Denise's degree of medicine.

The sanitary paper crinkled under her as she sat on the patient's day bed, her feet dangling and hands wrung in anticipation.

Daryl sat in the waiting chair on the far wall, his head in his hands and his eyes concentrated on the floor. Demons that hadn't plagued him in years were back with full force, the scars on his back heating with unwanted attention.

Beth thought she was pregnant, and that meant that he had fucked up.

Majorly.

Dixon men weren't made to be fathers – hateful, abusiveness ran in the blood, and that same blood ran through his veins no matter how hard he tried to escape it. Merle may have looked like their mother, but Daryl was all Will Dixon.

When the door opened he was on his feet, though Beth promptly ignored him as she took in Denise with a watery smile.

"Beth!" Denise exclaimed, rushing to embrace the smaller woman who faithfully sent the doctor lettuce chips yearly, a bond forming between the two that had been unexpected. "Please tell me this is a friendly visit?"

Daryl watched on with lead in his stomach as tears immediately sprung to his wife's eyes, the harsh reality finally settling in that he had been pathetically useless to the woman who meant everything to him. He'd been so deep into his own insecurities to realize that Beth was probably just as scared as him – probably more scared, with good reason.

He pushed everything away as he strode over to where she was sitting, Denise patiently waiting while his wife faltered.

"Pregnant." Daryl blurted, his voice rough from lack of use, both woman turning to him with wide eyes. But he sucked in a breath, refusing to look away from the wide eyed doctor. "We think she's pregnant."

…

When Denise confirmed the suspicion with a positive test, she ushered them to a familiar room in her house that they had stayed in before, with promises to be back when her shift was over with their old family members.

Beth still hadn't spoken a word to him, and she had turned her back to him as soon as Denise was gone and they were alone. He watched as she situated herself on the bed with her back to him, her knees going to her chest reflexively.

He was still in shock that there was something growing inside Beth that was both of them combined, paralyzed at the idea that in what Denise said would be six short months, he would be a father. Still unsure how this was all happening now, when protection had ran out years ago.

Memories of his childhood plagued him as he slid down the wall, sitting on the floor facing the bed. He could tell Beth was crying from where she was, her arms wrapped around herself and her shoulders shaking. Yet he didn't feel welcome to join her on the bed, didn't feel as if he was good enough to be half of the child growing within her.

He was a Dixon, and he finally ruined Beth Dixon.

…

"Daryl Dixon, you should be celebrating with your wife, not out here pitying yourself."

Daryl closed his eyes at the telltale sign that he was about to get ripped a new one, pulling back on one of the cigarettes he had found like it was his last lifeline. He let his head fall back to hit the doorstep railings where he was perched on the stairs, looking up and into the face of a ticked off Carol.

"Nothin' to celebrate." He huffed, blowing the smoke out in her general direction; something that he never would have done had she not stalked over calling him out on his shit.

Carol only rolled her eyes at his antics, kicking his boot so he would move over to allow her space to sit beside him. It didn't matter that he didn't want her to sit down, because she ignored his grunt and swatted at his leg until he accommodated her.

"I'd say there's plenty to celebrate." She looked at him pointedly, her sharp eye cutting to his very bone. He avoided her look, pulling the last bit of smoke into his lungs before he threw the butt away from the house.

In his silence, she continued. "You searching for Sophia – I understand now, that it had a lot to do with your childhood, and less to do with feelings for me."

His eyes immediately went to her, and when she smiled at him, it was sad but knowing.

"From the moment Rick told us you two were still out there, but not coming to Alexandria, I knew." She paused, eyes flickering over his now intently listening face. "I knew that it hadn't ever been about me, and that you were in love with her."

Daryl suddenly felt uncomfortable, shifting further away from where he sat, although he knew he would never have anything to worry about with Carol. Maybe she had felt things for him back then, but they had never been returned, and he had always made that clear.

"You were a scared little boy out there, and that's what you saw in my daughter." Carol faltered for a moment in the remembrance of Sophia, of whom Daryl would never forget either for the exact reason this woman had somehow figured out on her own. "You wanted to find her, because when you were her, you wanted someone to find you."

Daryl was silent, his fists clenched together. He couldn't deny anything that the woman was spurting, as much as he wanted to. As much as his reflexes were telling him to get the hell out of dodge, slip into the covering of the trees and _think_ for a while, he was anchored to the house that held his sleeping wife just one story up.

There was a pregnant pause as Carol allowed both of them to take in what she had thrown out into the open, flashbacks of being a young kid, starving and terrified out in the middle of nowhere paralyzed him. Running for hours, searching for water, only to drink stagnant pond water and have his father whip him a good one for taking up time and money with the hospital visit it required.

Remembered begging for food by the local restaurant, the owner who had grown up with the likes of Will Dixon, and took pity on him for the most part. He'd save all the edible scraps he could for the little boy whose ribs were prominent under his shirt, along with the deep red gashes that lined his back.

His childhood was nothing to brag about – no ponies, no presents from Santa Clause. How was he supposed to raise a child the right way, when he didn't know shit about being a kid?

All he could do, was everything Will Dixon hadn't.

Daryl stood abruptly, glancing down at Carol who held a knowing smile as he threw open the screen door of Denise's house, and jumped two stairs at a time.

…

She didn't turn towards him when the door opened quietly, still facing the wall, though she didn't need to turn around to know that it was him. His soft tread was enough to know that he had calmed down and was no longer stomping around, yet she had no intention of facing him.

Beth got it, she did. Her being pregnant was just one huge reminder that his childhood had been shitty, but that was no excuse. This baby inside her, whether she had to do this with him or by herself, would be loved unconditionally. And maybe they wouldn't have things like frozen yogurt anymore, but she would give anything she had.

And even though she was pissed, even though she wanted him to leave until she calmed down, her breath hitched when she felt him sit on the bed. His boots, pants and vest hit the floor with quiet thuds and he didn't waste time in getting under the sheets when he was undressed.

Beth stayed as quiet as she could, squeezing her eyes tight in hopes that he would think she was asleep.

Daryl listened for Beth's breathing, knowing damn well that she was awake. And he supposed she had every right to be pissed at him; every right to ignore his presence at his actions today. He'd been less than comforting – downright awful.

But when his hand carefully wound its way to her tiny bump, his mitt covering the expansion of her lower stomach, tears sprung to her eyes even if she refused to turn around.

"M'sorry Beth, so sorry." He knew damn well that she wasn't asleep, but she made no move and he moved himself closer to her when she didn't pull away, fascinated with the fact that just under his hand, there was a child growing that was both of them combined. "Promise I'll be better."

She closed her eyes, breathing easier than she had for weeks when his forehead rested on the back of her neck, knowing he didn't make promises he didn't intend to keep.

…

"I'm going back, and you can't stop me." Her words were final as she sat around her longtime friends and family.

Daryl's fists clenched together in his seat beside her, casting a glance at Rick who looked at his wife with a frown on his face. Beth was a tiny thing, but she certainly made up for it with the fire that resided within her – she was a force to be reckoned with, and Daryl knew he wasn't winning this one.

Not when she'd spent so much time preparing their little lighthouse for the summer months, not when their garden was beginning to flourish and chores were left unfinished. No, he knew they'd always be going back to the lighthouse, Beth wouldn't have it any other way.

"Beth." Maggie started, putting a hand on her sister's knee. She had drove straight to Alexandria when their arrival was announced, forms of static walkie talkies used between larger communities that had Maggie racing to the next community. "It's safe here, you guys could even come to –"

"No." Beth deadpanned, her deep blue gaze hitting and resting on each and every one of them. Rick, Michonne, Carl – Judith who was now almost eighteen and a clear image of Lori. Carol, Maggie, Junior – even Denise was there. "I'm going home."

"S'safe on the island." Daryl interjected, silencing anyone who was about to make another comment on Beth's decisions. This was their baby, her body – she was going to be the one to call the shots, that he was damn sure of. "Be back for checkups."

And even if she was still ragingly upset with him, she gave him an appreciative nod.

…

When they were halfway back to the island, dodging lame walkers that had no drive anymore, Beth finally looked at him for the first time. And he wouldn't ever say it out loud, but Christ he would've fallen to her feet for her forgiveness had she not broken the silence soon.

"I didn't appreciate the way you handled things." She admitted, her hand instinctively going to her stomach to protect the child she never knew she would carry; never planned on carrying. "I wasn't trying to force anything on you."

His glare was sharp, but his voice was soft. "Ain't forcin' anythin' on me, Beth. Just as much mine as it is yours."

She nodded at his revelation, and even if it was something she had always known, it was nice to hear him say it. And as she was about to continue her speech that she had planned, he began talking, effectively dousing her anxieties.

"Hard to imagine brining another Dixon into this world." He admitted, gripping the steering wheel and looking directly out the window, swerving to avoid walkers when necessary. It went without saying that his reaction had so much more to do with his own past than anything to do with the child growing inside of her. "Lori – Beth I can't."

When his eyes met hers briefly, she could see the fear within, mirroring her own. And she clutched impossibly tight to the hand he offered.

"We'll get through it." Beth reasoned. "We always do."

 **TBC**

 **Your wish is my command.**


	28. Epilogue Part 3

**Author's Note: You're all too kind.**

 **Epilogue**

 **Part Three**

The screams were the worst part.

The so obvious agonizing pain that had Beth writhing on their bed, loads of sterilized towels and plastic underneath her. Her hand clutching painfully to his, his hand cramping but he didn't care. If he could take all the pain away, he would without hesitation.

Denise yelling for Beth to push, Maggie assisting in holding her back as Beth pushed with every ounce of strength she possessed. Daryl whispering words of encouragement into her ear, how much he absolutely loved her and how strong she was.

It was twelve excruciating hours later, when Denise laid a tiny pink, screaming creature on Beth's chest.

Even after labor, Beth was the most beautiful person he had ever seen as she cried, inspecting the whaling child's fingers and toes, counting as she went along. The scene unfolding in front of him was something he would never forget – the tiny child's eyes open and blinking rapidly.

"It's a girl." Denise revealed, tucking in both mother and child as she assisted Beth in getting comfortable, wrapping the baby quickly in a blanket that Beth had picked out specifically for when this moment came.

Daryl's gaze was permanently fixed on his daughter, who was staring up at her mother with a memorized look on her face. And it was Maggie, who nudged him forward as she backed out of the room, Denise following behind to give the new parents a moment with their new daughter.

He sat on the edge of the bed, where he had been all throughout labor but had been pushed away in the commotion of their child being born. Beth looked absolutely exhausted, but she was glowing as the tiny infant's eyes darted between them, paralyzing Daryl as he caught sight of them.

 _His_ eyes.

When Beth pushed over cautiously on the bed, he didn't hesitate to climb in beside her, cradling both his wife and daughter in his arms. And he couldn't ever remember feeling so _full_ before.

…

It was the first night of having a newborn in their little home, Denise on the couch and Maggie on a bundle of blankets on the floor fast asleep.

He was glad that the two woman stayed when the rest of their family went back to their respective communities, grateful there was a doctor here just in case, and someone who Beth trusted to help out. Denise had cleaned them both up, and Daryl had carefully lifted Beth up and moved her to the couch while Maggie changed the bedsheets.

Maggie had made a quick dinner for all of them, using recipes that she had learned from her sister over the years, and Denise showed Beth how to feed the infant who latched on with no problem at all. Everyone was here now, safe and sound with full bellies.

Beth was sound asleep in bed, getting the much needed rest after all the hard work that she had done, bringing their child into the world only hours ago. And he was sitting at the kitchen table, the tiny bassinet sitting on the table in front of him, while he watched the baby sleep.

He couldn't sleep, not when she was finally here.

The baby was breathtaking – with the roundest blue eyes, tufts of white blonde hair and fists that kept clenching and unclenching. She was so small that Daryl had yet to pick her up without someone putting her in his arms, terrified that he would crush her in his too large hands.

But when she started to squawk, he didn't hesitate to grab the bassinet and slip outside, grabbing a bottle of the milk that Beth prepared before she fell asleep.

He sat outside while the tiny child watched him with his own shade of blue, making sure that she was wrapped up tight before offering her the bottle, to which she took to immediately. It unnerved him that this child was his – this beautiful little creature was a Dixon. Yet, she would never really know what that used to mean, to own the last name; he was going to make damn sure of that.

…

"There you are." Maggie smiled as she helped her sister get situated for another session of breastfeeding, Junior being the last baby to use the U shaped pillow her sister had presented to her along with countless other baby items that now took over their tiny lighthouse. "Have you decided on a name yet?"

Denise had returned to Alexandria a few days ago, when things had calmed down and they had gotten the baby on a consistent routine. But Maggie had stuck around, and both Daryl and Beth were grateful that there was another set of hands to help with meals, laundry and diaper changes.

"No, not yet." Beth declared, glancing at Daryl who had a particularly grumpy face as he sat folding cloth diapers that he had spent the morning washing in the ocean, her heart swelling with affection for the man who had mastered fatherhood overnight. "But I think we should."

Daryl looked up from his task, eyes catching Beth's as he nodded at her. They had been discussing names for the past week, throwing meaningful names as well as random names they liked in the mix. There was one in particular that they both had liked however, and it was time.

"We were thinking about Sailor." Beth declared, gazing down adoringly at the baby who was eating her lunch, glancing back up at him with a loving smile. "Sailor Anne."

Daryl abandoned the diapers he had been folding, making his way to the bed where Beth was feeding his daughter – Sailor, sitting beside her and tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. Her smile was watery as he leaned in, pressing his lips to the baby's forehead while Maggie gushed and squeaked over how perfectly fitting the name was.

Sailor Anne Dixon was perfect in every way.

…

"Da."

Both Beth and Daryl's heads whipped to the makeshift playpen that sat in the middle of the lighthouse, Sailor rolling around in her cloth diaper on mounds of blankets with pillows casing her in. It was summer, and the little girl had practically grown out of everything she had owned that winter.

They kept her mostly in her diapers during the warm season, placing a floppy hat that was much too big over her head when they took her outside, always in the shade. She loved to be on her stomach, her neck stronger than Judith's had been at her age, watching everyone with wild wide blue eyes, drool dripping out of her gummy smile.

According to Beth's calendar, she was just six months old, and she was curious about everything. Sitting out in the sand was her favorite thing right now, amazed at the sand that would run through her fingers whenever she took a handful.

Beth had just begun to feed her little bits of mashed carrots and peas, and even Daryl laughed outright at the faces the baby made with the new tastes and textures, mashed food covering her from her head to her toes.

Sailor had a stuffed Winne the Pooh that she absolutely adored, becoming quickly attached to the toy that Daryl had picked up for her weeks after they had found out about her. And even though there were plenty more toys for her to play with, it was the extinct Disney character she fell in love with.

It was something that they used to occupy her with, especially since it was now summer and besides all the tasks and chores they had to do, they had a baby to look after too. They took turns doing their respective jobs, switching between childcare and preparing food; appreciating the time they could take off now that they were well established.

"Did you-"

"Dadadada."

"Oh my God." Beth breathed, clutching onto his shoulder for a second where she had been stirring brine on the stovetop, and he sat at the table cutting the vegetables up to go in the jars. He stood as soon as he realized what was going on, and what his daughter was doing, quickly closing the space between them as he fell to his knees beside his wife and daughter.

Beth turned Sailor on her back, and the baby had the squished Winne the Pooh in her hands, ear in her drooling mouth. Both parents gazed down at the child with awestruck eyes, Sailor looking back at them with no sense of how important this moment was in her life.

"What did Mummy's girl just say?" Beth asked in her voice she used to reserve for the cat, and now for their daughter. He watched on as she tickled Sailor's tummy, sending the baby into a fit of giggles around the stuffed bear she had in her mouth. "Say mumumum."

"C'mon kid." Daryl took the opposite ear of Pooh in between his thumb and finger, tugging gently as the baby held strong, gums chomping and drool flying. "Say it again, we gotta point to prove to your mother."

Beth's glare was halfhearted as the baby discarded Pooh, grabbing onto his finger that she promptly tried to stick in her mouth. This was just the beginning of teething, but if she was as pleasant throughout the whole journey as she had been all along, they would have it made.

At the loss of Pooh and his finger, the child looked up at them with questioning eyes.

"Da."

The tears that sprung to both their eyes were inevitable, Beth quickly picking the baby up and settling her into her arms, leaning into Daryl who sat beside her on the floor. Sailor grabbed for Beth's hair, but before her hand could get too tangled, Daryl handed her Pooh.

"Looks like you win this one." Beth sighed, resting the back of her head against his shoulder as he threw an arm around both of them.

He didn't say anything back, but he'd won long before this.

…

A week after the eight month mark, Sailor almost gave Daryl a heart attack.

He swore he'd only turned around for one second, just long enough to grab one of the bottles Beth had prepared before she'd taken off to Hilltop with Maggie, for the next day or so. It hadn't been easy for her, and she'd clung to Sailor for a long time before he'd finally convinced her that they would be fine.

Though he had a hard time leaving, too, whenever tracks of large game led him off on the other side of the shore. So he understood completely when Beth had kissed the baby's face over and over again, cooing and talking to the little girl that had still only mastered 'Da.'

Beth was heading to Hilltop like she usually did at the end of each summer, spending time with her sister and nephew, bringing back things that they needed and were plentiful in the larger community. Things like soap and sugar, even though they had learned to live without it long ago, were great things to have.

So when he turned back to the makeshift playpen in the middle of the lighthouse floor, his stomach hit the floor when his daughter was nowhere in sight.

He dropped the bottle, forgetting the struggle Beth had to go through every time she filled a bottle for their child, her chest ringed in deep bruises from the practice of extracting milk herself. There were no automatic pumps anymore, and breastfeeding while she wasn't there was impossible. She'd joked more than once she felt like some sort of cow, much to his protest.

"Sailor." He hissed, eyes searching and hair standing on end, barely catching the tail end of a cloth diaper making its way out the open door. "Sailor."

And he couldn't even be mad as he dashed behind her, peals of laughter erupting from the tiny girl as she picked up handfuls of sand that fell between her fingers. It was an overcast day, yet it was beginning to cool off and the cloth diaper wasn't nearly enough clothes for her to be out here in the sand.

Yet, all he could do was drop down beside her, directly in front of the door to the lighthouse, and run a hand over her soft head as he let his heartbeat calm down. Just yesterday she had been struggling to get on her knees, and today she was fully mobile.

His little girl was growing up way too fast.

"Your Mum's not gonna be happy she missed this." Daryl cooed in the softest voice he reserved for the precious baby, with her white blonde curls and excessively large blue eyes.

And she looked up at him, watching him for a moment that had him pinned in spot, before she tried to shove a handful of sand in her gummy mouth.

…

"I can't believe she's going to be one tomorrow." Beth whispered in the dark, where they were lying in bed basking in the aftermath of their love. Their limbs where tangled together, a thin layer of sweat coating their bodies.

"Mm." Daryl agreed, running a hand over the beard that had almost completely gone grey, much to his dismay when he looked at how young Beth still seemed. Yet he knew that if he ever told her about his insecurities, she would shake her head and ignore his 'silliness'. "Went by fast."

"God did it ever." She responded, keeping her voice as low as she could to avoid waking the baby that slept just a few feet away from Beth's side of the bed. She threw an arm around his chest as she got comfortable to get a few hours rest before Sailor would wake. She'd picked up the habit of learned hunger, and they were in the process of weaning her away from waking at all, hoping that day would come sooner rather than later. "I'm going to miss the baby days."

Daryl looked over at her with a questioning glance, and even though it was dark she could see the thoughts running through his mind, trying but failing to keep her laugh down as he quickly hovered above her, catching her lips in his.

"I can fix that."

Her smile was blinding, even in the dark.

 **TBC**

 **So, I'm not sure if it's obvious or not, but I do not have children myself. I apologize to anyone who may have noticed my lack of experience in that department.** **On another note, while I could very well end this here, I have a bit more of Sailor at an older age. Is there any interest in that? I feel as if I may have gone off on a tangent.**


	29. Epilogue Part 4

**Epilogue**

 **Part Four**

"Mummy?" Sailor asked, who was now almost four, and had the lightest blond curls and shocking blue eyes.

They'd tried for a second, but it seemed as if their time for that was nearly over; Beth was donning on thirty four and hell Daryl had lost track of his age years back. It seemed they were only destined to have the one child, but they were okay with that.

And that one kept them busy, Sailor a ball of energy as of late with no indications that she would slow down anytime soon.

She was a tiny little thing, short and thin for even her age, with long white blonde hair that was even a shade lighter than her mother's. Her imagination was huge, she could spend hours running circles around the lighthouse, and sometimes Daryl would have to throw the child over his shoulder to get her to come inside for dinner.

Sailor lived up to her name, and during the summer months and even during the cooler fall months, she could be found splashing around in the ocean water, Beth never letting her too far out of sight. She collected seashells and feathers, and Daryl was beginning to make the tower into a bedroom that she would eventually use, when she was a bit older.

"Yes honey?" Beth asked back, glancing back at her daughter from where she stood over a pot of deer stew, their first batch since Daryl had caught a deer last week.

Sailor sat at the table, pencil in hand and face twisted in utmost concentration. Beth had begun giving her worksheets from the primary class at Alexandria even though she was a year too young, and was both amazed and wistful that their daughter was so smart and growing so fast.

"What a cat?"

Daryl, who was just coming in from the tower where he had been spending his days deconstructing the large glass mirrors, caught the tail end of the question his daughter was asking. He immediately noticed the upset look that passed though Beth's face before she masked it, turning to Sailor with a sad smile.

"Cats used to be pets, Sailor. Remember stories about Jade?" Beth coaxed her memory, catching eyes with Daryl as he stuck the dipper in the bucket of fresh water they kept during the winter months, using the bathtub for bathes.

Sailor's eyes lit up as if the news was brand new, and Daryl ruffled her long blonde curls as he walked towards his wife, wrapping his arms around her hips as she turned back to the pot of boiling stew. And he watched his daughters face as it became solemn. "Jade gone now."

Beth's smile was sad. "Yes, Jade is gone now honey."

Daryl pressed a kiss to Beth's neck at that, leaving her at the stove to start with the evening chores. He watered the herb pots, collected the dried salt. He even swept the floor and set the table around his daughter's school work, catching glimpses of her large capitalized letters of her name she kept writing over and over again.

Beth was very serious about giving their daughter an education, and he wasn't surprised when he looked over again and caught Sailor looking longingly at the pictures of barn animals in her workbook. She'd seen cows, pigs and chickens at Alexandria, and Hilltop even had a foal born to the only female horse they had left.

Yet, it was the cat she was stuck on, of course.

Pulling out Sailor's chair for her, Daryl took the pencil, nodding down at her when she looked at him with wide hopeful eyes. He only had to nod his head once before she was scrambling off the chair and racing to the sink, where he easily lifted her up to reach the water.

Doing homework an hour before dinner every night had become the norm, and she knew the drill.

When the excessively throughout handwashing was completed, Beth was scooping portions of stew into their bowls, and he pushed Sailor's chair closer to the table as she sat back. He made quick work of picking up that days school work, laying it on the kitchen counter that Beth would review with their daughter before bed.

It was only minutes after Grace was said, when Sailor looked at her mother.

"Mummy?" Sailor asked again, glancing up at him before back to Beth.

"Yes?" Beth answered back, and Daryl always wondered how Beth's patience never ran out. How she seemed to be ready for every ridiculous question the three year old would spurt at her, the perfect answer for each and every one.

"Can we has cat?"

Beth noticeably paled at her words, spine straightening. Truth is, they hadn't come across another cat since they had found Jade back on the cul-de-sac, and they had chalked it up to another species that had been wiped out by the apocalypse. Then again, they hadn't really been looking, and they surely weren't going to find a feral on the island.

And when Beth faltered, he stepped in.

"If you eat all your dinner we'll check the trap when you're done." Daryl told his young daughter who looked up at his words, eyes shining and smile wide. It was a cheap shot, he knew, but Sailor was extremely fascinated with the crawling crustaceans, and it served as the perfect distraction for the moment.

Not to mention that even though she was extremely young, he'd have to have serious lessons with her at some point. Show her the ropes of running this little piece of heaven – fishing, gardening, preserving, hunting and tracking. Self-defense, close and long range shots, weapons – dealing with walkers and other humans. But for now, he concentrated on his little girl, because all that could wait.

"Otay, Daddy."

And he caught when Beth's shoulders sagged in relief.

…

Daryl usually only travelled to Alexandria twice a year – once after the summer season was over, and he would pack up everything they prepared to be traded for other goods that they needed more. The second time was usually in the dead of winter, when everyone's spirits were down and they could use a little luxury chocolate to get them through.

It was the beginning of Spring, however, and he walked to Alexandria despite the car they had hidden in the garden center a few miles away from the lighthouse. He walked because he tracked as he went, bringing small game with him as he walked up to the iron gates.

"Hey!" Abraham called, who Daryl hadn't known from Adam when he'd first met him while Beth had been sick, but had warmed up when he realized Rick and Daryl had history that didn't include him. The gruff redheaded man didn't hesitate to swing the gate open. "Friendly visit? How's Peach?"

And even though they lived miles and miles away, everyone was particularly fond of his wife in this community, and was praised regularly for the lettuce chips and lobster rolls she provided whenever they harvested enough wheat for flour and yeast.

"On a mission," Daryl replied, walking in the open gate that shut securely behind him, waiting to Abraham give him a nod before he stalked off, walking to the house where he knew Rick would be. And it didn't take long before he was in the heart of Alexandria, everyone in the community moving at the early sun, heading off to their duties and jobs.

"Hey," Rick called as he spotted Daryl walking towards the house, where he sat casually on the porch with a mug of steaming liquid, sporting his sheriff uniform. Carl, who had grown to look strikingly like his father, smiled as he also caught sight of the hunter.

"Hey." Daryl called back, not feeling any awkwardness or hesitance as he made his way up the doorstep, the two Grimes' men shifting to accommodate him. And unfortunately, as much as he would've liked for this to be a friendly visit, he actually had something to accomplish. "Got a good one."

…

It was Sailor's birthday today, and Daryl quickly jumped out of bed as soon as his eyes opened.

Unbeknown to his wife and daughter, Daryl had gotten a particular gift for the occasion. A gift he wasn't sure how Beth would react to, or if his daughter was even still on the kick about owning one, but he raced to the lighthouse tower where he had carefully stored the box for the night.

It'd been a task to get the thing in, to begin with, and Beth had asked what was in the box as he darted up the stairs, trying and failing miserably to keep his face blank as his wife questioned him.

"Jus' more stuff for the bedroom." He had replied, because it wasn't a lie that he was fixing the tower to be a bedroom for their daughter, who would soon grow out of sleeping on the crib mattress they had been using since she was an infant. And Beth had been content with the answer, no reason to think otherwise.

But it had been a lie, and when Daryl opened the box, a tiny, grey furry creature poked its head out, wide green eyes staring back at him curiously.

…

The moment her feet hit the floor, even from the tower, Daryl heard her excitedly crawl into bed with her mother.

"Mummy, I'm four!" She exclaimed with wonderment in her tiny voice, as if she couldn't really believe it herself. And hell, Daryl could hardly believe Beth and him had a four year old daughter, let alone Sailor understanding herself.

He'd quickly petted the tiny animal before putting it back in the box, making sure the holes he'd poked in the top of the box were open and uncovered. He could faintly hear Sailor asking Beth where he was, and he looked back at the box once more before he returned downstairs, efficiently slipping the little bowl into the sink without glances his way, which had held salt fish an hour ago.

"Daddy!"

Her call to him was instant as she laid eyes on him, and he turned around from the sink with only a second to catch the little girl who flung herself at him, no hesitation in her stride as he caught her soundly in his arms, hugging her to his chest.

Sailor held up her hand, proudly showing him four fingers that Beth must have discussed with her at some point, and took in his daughter's serious face. "I's four now, Daddy."

"Happy Birthday, kid." He kissed her unruly curls, fixing her pajama dress that had gotten tangled around her during sleep, and walked the rest of the way to the bed that he had jumped out of before Beth had woken. Now he allowed himself to crawl back in, but not before opening the blankets and letting Sailor settle herself in the middle.

"We got ourselves a four year old." Daryl drawled, not able to withhold his smile as his daughter let out a peal of giggles at that, rolling over and burying her face in her mother's chest. Beth smoothed down Sailor's curls as well, throwing a smirk over her daughters head.

"How did that happen?" Beth asked, smiling down at the little girl, who was now situating herself so she could lay on both her parents; head buried in Beth's abdomen and feet spontaneously kicking Daryl in the ribs. "It seems like only yesterday you were crawling around here."

Beth and Daryl shared a loving glance as they watched their daughter grow right before their eyes, memories of their baby that was no longer a baby dancing across their vision. Memories of her first swim, her first step – her first birthday.

"Pancakes?" Sailor asked, glancing up at her mother with such innocent eyes that Daryl knew Beth would never be able to say no, even if she had wanted to.

"For your birthday?" Beth asked, tickling Sailor's sides until she was up and off them, allowing Beth to get up behind her. "Anything."

…

Beth's pancakes were really just flour, water, sugar and a little bit of salt. They didn't have eggs or milk on hand, yet Sailor declared pancakes her favorite meal more than once, and Beth was more than happy to dish them up on a plate.

They didn't have maple syrup, but Beth distractedly thought that maybe their apocalypse diet wouldn't appreciate the sickly sweet syrup that was now only a fragment of her imagination, and set a jar of their strawberry jam on the table as well.

Wild strawberries grew just on the other side of shore, and when it was harvesting time, they took Sailor with them and taught her how to behave in the world outside the lighthouse island. They taught her how to be quiet, how to keep tabs on her surroundings at all time; how to listen. They always gave her a little basket that used to be for Easter eggs, and let her pick her own berries.

They were determined to protect their daughter, without shielding her completely; they had to learn fast, and they wanted to give Sailor the time they hadn't had.

Daryl had just finished assisting Sailor with hand washing, and Beth pushed her in when the little girl raced to her respective seat, beaming up at her mother who sat in her own chair. Daryl only took another minute before he joined them as well, and Sailor was the one to offer both hands to her parents.

Even on her birthday, she knew the drill.

When Grace was over, and jam had been spread on pancakes, Daryl stood from the table. "Got a birthday surprise."

Beth eyed him suspiciously immediately, eyes following him as he retreated to the tower, where he could hear Sailor whispering her excitement. They'd gotten Sailor a few small things from Hilltop when Beth had went on her trip with Maggie, but they had decided that presents were a dinner time celebration.

Everyone was scheduled to arrive at the lighthouse tonight to celebrate Sailor turning four, and as soon as the breakfast dishes were taken care of, Beth knew she had to get started on the loafs of bread to go with their leftover deer stew. And of course, Beth had promised to make her daughter a 'strawberry shortcake'; even though it was just mashed strawberries and a tiny bit of sugar.

She watched as her daughter bounced in her seat, wondering just what her husband had done this time. He never seemed content in giving Sailor the gifts they picked out from the larger community; books, clothes and the occasional toy. It was as if he always needed more for their daughter – even though she had more than she could ever possibly need.

When Daryl came back into view with a cardboard box balanced in his arm, her suspiciousness grew.

"C'mere." Daryl called to Sailor, who looked at Beth for approval because there was still food on their plates and that was usually a sign that the answer would be no, but when Beth nodded her head Sailor jumped up to join her father.

"Wha'is it, Daddy?" The four year old pondered in her childlike way, ignoring the box and sitting on one of his knees, where he was crouched down. Beth smiled fondly at the both of them, in love with how in love Sailor was with Daryl.

"Go on," Daryl coaxed his daughter, who he had to throw an arm around to keep her situated on his knee, and he glanced back at Beth while trying to keep a straight face.

Both watched on as Sailor carefully untied the pink ribbon that was hastily tied around the entire of the box, her gentleness astounding at her tender age. But when the box gave a little jerk, the girl got spooked and clutched blindly for her father.

Beth's eyebrows drew together, and she stood from her seat.

But when the tiny, grey kitten poked its head curiously out of the box, the squeal of delight that Sailor let out was contagious, and she pushed away from him and darted after the kitten that was looking around for the first time.

"Gentle," he called to his daughter, who didn't need to be told regardless as her tiny hands made delicate scratches behind the felines ears, who instantly started to purr and rub against Sailor's leg; much to her utmost delight.

When Sailor's animated conversation with the kitten began, Beth looked at him with tears in her eyes, closing the small gap that was between them, lacing her arms around his midsection.

"How?" She asked, her voice small and sad, and he knew that she was thinking about Jade because he was too.

"Asked 'round, Rick finally found one few towns over." He responded, not about to tell her that Rick and him had drove for practically three days straight to pick up the tiny feline, when she had thought he was out on a hunt. It'd been completely ridiculous and wild – and both men had wildly laughed their asses off on the way back. The kitten climbing over both the car and them, remembering times when things hadn't been so easy.

"You're too much." Beth gushed, pushing her head against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her too, the giggles of their daughter echoing throughout their tiny home.

 **TBC**

 **Not sure where I plan to go from here, but definitely more of Sailor. Maybe a spinoff? Any interest?**


	30. Epilogue Part 5

**Epilogue**

 **Part Five**

"C'mon Smokey!" Sailor yelled, the chair from the dinner table turning over behind her as she whipped around, her feet echoing off the hollow tower staircase as the cat pranced behind her, the door slamming shut after telltale claws followed behind their daughter.

She was seventeen now, and her temper never really did stand a chance being half Dixon and half Greene, even they had known that.

And she wasn't happy with the answer her father had just given her.

Beth looked at Daryl, who looked a lot older than he was in the moment, his head in his hands with his full plate pushed away from him. None of them had appetites after the scene that had just unfolded in their kitchen, even though Beth had specially made pancakes with strawberry jam for Sailor's seventeenth birthday.

She stood as well, fixing the chair and taking her daughters plate, setting it on the counter and throwing a towel over it. This was one of Sailor's favorite meals, and Beth knew that when tempers calmed down she would be looking for her birthday dinner.

"I ain't mean." She overheard Daryl tell himself, but she didn't respond and continued to putter around the kitchen – anything to distract herself from the troubles her husband faced whenever he had to discipline Sailor. "I ain't mean for saying no."

…

Sailor was a beautiful little thing – and Daryl may never admit it, but she was growing out of her childhood home, and it would soon be time to allow her to find her own way.

She had long white blonde hair, even lighter than Beth's, and she was so small that it was hard to believe she was seventeen already. Her blue eyes, while wide like her mothers, were Daryl's shade of blue and reminded him all the time that Sailor had turned the Dixon name around completely.

Well mannered, so beyond intelligent for her years; a hard worker. She helped her parents with the crops yearly with not even one compliant, shredding leaves, weeding, watering. She cooked with Beth and fished with Daryl; she was the perfect combination of them both, and it went without saying that the parents would've liked to lock her away on the island for the rest of her life.

She'd finished her school work almost two years ahead of the students in Alexandria and Hilltop, and they had taken that time to show Sailor what the real world was like. And even though language, math and science were needed, there was only so much a child could learn from a book.

So they went out, off the island and into the snake pit.

They'd started out small, like Daryl had for Beth after the prison, and worked their way up. Daryl showed her how to shoot his crossbow, even if she didn't have any interest in killing anything at all. Walker or human, which had proved to be a pretty big ordeal in the beginning.

"I can't Dad!" Sailor had hissed in horror, the crossbow wielded perfectly at the walker staggering towards them, hesitation floating across her limbs. Daryl had spent the last three hours in the woods with her, and she hadn't been able to pull the trigger yet.

And maybe that wasn't a bad thing, because when Daryl looked at his daughter, he saw her mother every time.

Too good for this shit, too good for this life.

So it was understandable that when Sailor had asked to attend one of the teen dances in Hilltop, now that she was seventeen, Daryl had been firm with his answer.

…

Smokey, who had been named when she was four, sat perched in one of the window ledges of her tower bedroom.

He was a fat cat, loved to sleep and laze around – and Sailor was by far his favorite. Even in his old age, he would take comfort in reaching the top stair of the tower, where he would be rewarded with scratches and belly rubs. He was her best friend since she could remember.

"It's not fair, Smoke." Sailor whispered, aware that there was little to no insulation, and voices carried. She was sitting at the desk that her father had made for her when she had turned thirteen, announcing now that she was officially a teen, she needed a desk to work at.

It was painted white, along with mostly everything else in the tiny circular room; leftover paint that had been sitting in the garden center, where they still parked their car. She couldn't remember it at all, but apparently her father had deconstructed the mirrors that had taken up most of the tiny space she called her own, covering the gaping hole in the floor with two by fours they'd gotten from Aunt Maggie.

He'd made window ledges all around, so that Sailor could keep her shell collection sorted and on display. Over the years her collection had grown considerably, and now every available surface had some sort of sea treasure adorning it.

She'd listened to the story many times of how they had gotten her twin mattress over to the island, where they had brought it all the way from Hilltop on the roof of their little Volkswagen. She'd heard the story how her cousin Junior had fallen off the dory in the middle of the trip, how much her parents had laughed and how her five year old self had been so concerned when Junior had fallen off the dory that she had slept with him on the couch that night.

Her Mum had decorated the room years ago, and Sailor still loved every bit of it as much as she had when she was six and presented the room for her birthday. White and blue walls, white curtain rods with white curtains covered the whole of her walls that were still glass.

A million pillows and blankets, and even more stuffed animals and items that she had collected throughout her seventeen years of life.

She loved it here – she did. But she also wanted more.

…

Daryl was outside puttering around to keep his mind off things, and Beth was lying on the couch with a book.

She tried to ignore when her daughters feet padded carefully down the tower staircase, so obviously trying to keep quiet and hidden as she made her way to the kitchen, where Beth knew she'd be looking for her cold pancakes.

And she was going to let Sailor get away with it – she was going to act as if she hadn't even heard her, and let her stew away in her bedroom for a few more hours before a conversation would needed to be had. But when the girl dropped her fork on the wooden floor with a clang, Beth allowed herself to catch eyes with her daughter.

Sailor's eyes were doe eyed at being caught, her face immediately turning a shade of red.

"What are you doing, Sailor?" Beth asked, placing her open book in her lap, even if she knew damn well what she was up to. The rule in this house had been the same for years – if you didn't eat at the dinner table with the family, you went hungry until breakfast the next morning.

"Uh-" Sailor began, cutting herself off with a shrug of her shoulders.

Beth sighed, closing her book. It was her daughter's seventeenth birthday, and all three of them were in separate places of their home. She didn't like it – not when memories of their daughter growing up ran through her mind. Memories of their times as a family.

Sailor only hesitated a moment before she sat herself down beside Beth, the resemblance of the pair showing. To Beth, it was looking into a mirror of the past, with less walker blood and broken bones.

"I know you want to go, but we need a little more information on this." Beth tried to console her daughter, even though she could physically see how Sailor automatically tensed that her mother was also not on her side.

"Mum-" Sailor instantly began to whine, but Beth held up a hair and cut her off.

"If you want to do adult things, Sailor, you need to act like an adult." And she hated scolding her daughter, and detested the hurt expression that passed through the girls face. Truth was, Beth could remember being that age – could remember the hardships she had _thought_ she was going through, back on the farm. Before things went to hell.

But just because she could remember what it felt like to be that age, she wasn't about to allow her daughter to become some brat that disrespected her parents and their decisions.

"Mum." Sailor began again, no whine to her voice this time whatsoever, an edge to her voice that could only be described as intelligence. "I promise I will get more information. Could I please use the radio to call Ria?"

Ria was a young girl that was the same age as Sailor, who lived in Hilltop. The two had been paired up one summer when they had been around five, for a week long summer day camp that Carol organized and put on for the kids of Hilltop. And it had been Sailor's first time away from home, where she stayed with her Aunt Maggie.

The girls had bonded instantly, and had been friends since that day camp. They took turns visiting one another, between Hilltop and the island, and Beth had known that Ria had been the one to plant the seed in her daughters mind to begin with. Plus, the use of VHF radios was coming back, and Maggie of course made sure that Beth and Daryl had one, even if Sailor seemed to use it more than anyone.

"How about first, you call your Aunt Maggie." Beth suggested, opening her book again to show that she was finished with the conversation, and there was no negotiating left to do. "And then yes, you can call Ria."

Sailor smiled at her through a mouthful of pancake and strawberries. "Thanks, Mum."

Beth just hoped she really was thankful.

…

"It'll be fine, Bethy!" Maggie spoke over the radio that she held in her hand, static predominant but they were working out the kinks as civilization once again began from the ground up. And as far as Beth went, she didn't care if she ever had the means of communication again, but had to admit that hearing her sisters voice coming from such was nothing short of amazing.

"I just worry, Maggie." Beth revealed, thinking back to when Junior was in his teens and had given her sister a much rougher time than Sailor was giving them. "But you say it's organized?"

It took a few minutes for her sister to hear her message, and she waited patiently as the static roar came over her handheld speaker. "We're trying to let kids be kids, Beth, and dances are just that."

"Okay." Beth had replied, depositing the handheld radio back into its cradle, where solar powered batteries would recharge the little bit of juice she had used in calling her sister. She turned to her husband that had been sitting on their bed, listening intently to the conversation.

Beth shrugged her shoulders in his direction, carefully climbing over him and letting her body relax into their mattress. Her arm ached somedays, from where the car had hit her at the funeral home, and it was always a welcome feeling to crawl into bed at the end of the day.

"Guess I'm going to Hilltop tomorrow." Daryl grumbled halfheartedly, rolling over and pulling his wife close to his chest. He'd drive Sailor to her Aunt Maggie's the next morning, giving her the warnings every seventeen year old needed to be reminded of, with promises from Sailor that she would give them a call over the radio. "Get a night to ourselves."

Beth only laughed before pressing her lips to his.

…

Sailor looked wide eyed at the group of kids that had snuck out of the chaperoned dance, including Ria and by default, her. One by one they were jumping the lowest part of the chain link fence, like some sort of assembly line, and Sailor's heart was dancing wildly in her mouth.

When her Dad had dropped her off, she had promised him a million times over that it was just a dance, and that she would be fine. That she was just going to spend time with Ria, secretly hoping that maybe she would be asked to dance.

And honestly, Sailor had believed Ria when she had said that was all it was going to be.

Little did she think she would be standing behind her friend, curly hair straightened thanks to her Aunt Maggie's iron, with a frilly blue dress her Mum had constructed for her on her sixteenth birthday, waiting her turn to climb over the walls into the unknown.

And the other kids thought this was all a big joke – they did. She knew they did, because when she had asked what they were bringing as weapons in case walkers came, they had laughed at her and told her that walkers weren't threats anymore, and didn't she know anything?

When Ria hit the bottom of the other side, and it was Sailor's turn, her friend rolled her eyes at the hesitance.

"C'mon Sail!" Ria rolled her eyes, kids behind her pushing her aside to get over to the other side, into the dark where they were running off, shouting profanities at each other while passing around the bottle of vodka one of the guys had stolen from his parents. And when Ria was handed the bottle, Sailor watched her take a long pull from the bottle before coughing, glancing back through the fence at her. "Stop being so stupid."

With a hand on the chain link fence, she watched as Ria took off into the darkness with the group of kids, her best friend not turning back to look at the friend that she had just dismissed. And Sailor clenched her fists together as she watched the shadows of Ria and her community friends disappear into the darkness, until she could hardly even see the flicker of their flashlights.

They'd all come back and tomorrow she would be the laughing stock of the teenage community again. The weird island girl – the one who doesn't know how to have any fun. They'd make fun of her weird parents and their weird lifestyle more so than they already did on a regular basis.

Tears were so close to the surface that she couldn't help when one escaped.

"Hey, you okay?"

Sailor clutched to the chain link fence, willing herself to seem confident as she whipped around to face the foreign voice. "Fine."

The boy, who looked to be not much older than her own age, raised his hands at her curt response before shoving them into the pockets of his blue jeans. Sailor watched on as he shrugged his shoulders, glancing towards the fading voices outside the walls.

"They go out again?" He asked, beginning to walk away, and Sailor wasn't quite sure why she followed or why she wanted to hear what this boy had to say, but she did.

She didn't need anyone to tell her that the walkers weren't threats anymore, because she knew better. She'd seen with her own two eyes just what the walkers could do, even if they looked like a strong gush of wind could blow them over. They were strong, persistent – and only a shot to the head would take them down on their pursuit of food.

Her Daddy had shown her how to take them out using pretty much anything she would have available including sticks, knives and his crossbow since she could remember. But she was small, and she knew that she would never be able to take on a herd like the ones that sometimes passed by the shores of the lighthouse. When her Mum would draw all the blinds and blow out all the candles, and they would make popcorn on the stove to occupy themselves – competitions between her and her Dad to see who could catch the most kernels in their mouth.

Sailor only nodded, continuing her walk beside him as he led the way back to the community. She planned to go back to Aunt Maggie's, crawl in bed and not show her face until her Daddy came to take her home. She couldn't wait to get back to the island, where these feelings of self that coursed through her body didn't exist.

"Why didn't you go?" He asked, casually glancing at her, but she could tell that he really wanted to know the reasoning behind her decision, she could tell from the genuine look he was giving her.

And she'd never met this boy before, but she didn't hold back. "Because I'm not stupid."

When he smiled at her, Sailor couldn't explain the fluttering sensation in her stomach.

 **TBC**

 **I couldn't control myself. I'm in too deep now.**


	31. Epilogue Part 6

**Author's Note: This chapter has taken entirely too long, and I apologize.**

 **Part Six**

Sailor was abruptly woken by her Aunt throwing the door open, frantic cries coming from the static radio she had clutched in her hand.

"She's here Beth! She's here, she's here, she's here."

And when her Aunt Maggie clutched to her with tears pouring down her face, she knew something had gone terribly wrong.

…

Her Mum worried excessively, that's just who she was. Sailor understood that, and so did her Aunt Maggie. So when she had left for the dance with Ria the night before, promising her aunt that she would be home as soon as the dance was over, Maggie had told her that she would see her at breakfast the next morning.

Now, she was with her aunt, the boy who she had met last night and his parents, and the community's sheriff as they waited for her parents to arrive from the island. The adults were being tight lipped, and they had all stalked off into an office when the sheriff had beckoned them to do so, when Sailor turned to the boy. "Do you think there was an accident?"

The boy looked over at her for a moment, his gaze seeming to see right through her, sending weird shocks across her body as he studied her. "Yeah – I overheard my parents this morning."

Sailor's breath hitched at that, and despite not wanting them to, tears threatened to leak pass her closed eyelids.

"Sailor Anne so help me God!" Her Mum exclaimed as the door to the sheriffs building opened, both her parents rushing to her, her Mum with tears to match her own as Sailor threw an arm around both of their necks, pulling them in close.

And only when she had her arms around her Mum and Daddy, did the waterworks really begin.

…

Beth wanted to get her confused child out of there as soon as she had her back in her arms, knowing full well that Sailor hadn't been told the extent of the full truth.

Daryl was furious – furious at Maggie, furious at the nameless people who had been supposedly putting on this dance; furious that he'd gotten a VHS 'natural disaster' call this morning that may or may not have included his daughter. And he didn't hold back as he told them as much, every eye in the Sherriff's office on them as he exploded.

"Could you lay off Daryl? Sailor's here!" Maggie exploded back, motioning for Sailor whose eyes had widened significantly as her aunts outburst, and the other young boy in the room to leave. And only when the two teens excused themselves, the door shutting behind them with a deafening click, did her sister continue. "All those kids… they're dead."

Beth's hands flew to her mouth, tears springing to her eyes. "God Maggie, what happened?"

…

Sailor sat on the concrete steps leading to the sheriff's department first, and the boy followed suit after only a moment of hesitation.

"My name's Reggie, by the way." He halfheartedly introduced himself, and she had to shake her head to break herself out of her daze.

"Sailor." She watched as he nodded his head, before starring off into space himself.

After her aunt had nearly gone into hysterics this morning before the sun was even up, her Mum had made her talk to her on the radio until they had lost reception, on the way from the island. She was beyond exhausted, confused and all she wanted was to cuddle up with Smokey and have a nap.

Her beloved animal who was now undoubtedly her best friend, since Ria had shown her true colors the past evening. And that still stung – Sailor wasn't stupid. She was mad at her friend –

"Do you know what happened?" Sailor asked abruptly, breaking her own train of thoughts as she whipped her head back in his direction. He had said yes there was an accident, and she planned to pick his brain if Aunt Maggie and her parents wouldn't tell her. "Ria?"

The boy, Reggie, looked at her with cool brown eyes. "There was a herd of walkers circling nearby; my Dad works on the wall. I tried to tell them…"

And when he trailed off, she knew.

…

Sailor was upset for a long while after the bodiless funerals at Hilltop had been held, all fourteen of the teens that had escaped to drink that night had met a herd of walkers that the communities' wall staff had been keeping an eye on. Fourteen young adults had died that night, and it had been recorded as the biggest loss in their new society.

As for Sailor, she had been rewarded accordingly, and Beth had noticed the tears of pride that resided in Daryl's eyes as they had sat listening to her explanation at the sheriff's office. She'd explained what had happened that night, how she'd known jumping the fence and going out defenseless wasn't an option.

And Reggie, the boy who had been with Sailor that night, explained that his classmates regularly practiced the particular scenario. And that when he had no interest in joining, he had been ostracized to a point where he had been faking ill to stay home from school.

The boy's father had narrowed his eyes at his son's words, and Daryl didn't miss the fear that passed through the kid. And when he looked at his wife, she was already looking at him with a glance of understanding. His scars that lined his back hadn't burned in years, but this kid reminded him of a different time.

And Sailor's own heart had ached to the boy – she knew how it felt to be the weird one; but she didn't have to live here.

So when they were finished at the Sheriff's, and the adults congregated at the end of the stairs in their own conversation, Sailor turned to the boy whose eyes hadn't left the floor since he reluctantly admitted he'd been donned an outcast by his classmates.

She knew what it felt like to be the outsider – she knew.

"How can I get in touch with you?" She asked, forcing herself to act confident as his head whipped towards her, sad brown eyes squinting as if he could hardly believe what he was hearing. As if he was suspicious it was a trap; as if she had ulterior motives. Though she kept her genuine smile in place, refusing to let it slip as he watched her.

Reggie faltered for a moment before one side of his lips quirked, so small she barely caught it. "You can call on the VHS, channel forty two."

And Sailor's smile was small but true, as she nodded her agreement, catching her Mum's hand as they stalked off.

…

Their pantry that had been upgraded over the years to Daryl's handmade shelves rather than the stairs, was overflowing. Every season at the end of preserving and bottling, Beth would declare that they were going to take next summer off, with more than enough for at least two full winters.

Yet, every spring, she would be the first one to set everything in motion, often times shooing her husband and daughter away as she worked the soil. Gardening was still one of her favorite things to do, and even though it was hard work, it gave her a sense of relief.

Her family would be fed for another winter.

And usually Sailor would come out anyways, even if Beth didn't ask or need help, and the youngest Dixon would shove her hands in the soil as if it was second nature. Chattering mindlessly to her mother about everything and anything that was going through her head.

Sailor had eventually began to call it 'Mum time', and today was no exception as her eighteen year old sat beside her wordlessly, where she had been spreading the leaves to begin the mulch. And Sailor didn't say anything as she began to pack it in as Beth added.

"I think I'd like to visit Hilltop." Was the first thing to break the silence, and even though Beth knew that this was a long time coming conversation, it caught her off guard all the same.

Sailor hadn't returned to her sister's community since the accident had happened almost a year ago, and she had spent many nights lying in bed with her daughter, consoling her about the friend she had lost. It would be too hard to return, without Ria there to greet her.

And Daryl and Beth couldn't deny that they were relieved Sailor was once again content to stay put on their island, spending her days cuddled with the aging feline, nose deep into whatever book she could get her hands on. Lately it had been Nancy Drew she was reading, her Aunt Maggie presenting the whole collection to her on her eighteenth birthday, and after every book Sailor read, Beth usually picked it up after.

"Yeah?" Beth asked back, because she figured out long ago that it was the best way to communicate with Sailor – the only way to hear her daughter out without pushing her own impressions on the young girl.

Sailor nodded, and Beth watched as her daughter thoughtfully moved the soil in her hands. Sailor may think that she was stealthy, sneaking the VHS into her bedroom late at night while she thought her parents were sleeping, but Beth knew better.

It wasn't longer after the disaster at Hilltop happened, that they had heard the static of the radio upstairs in their daughter's bedroom, and she had to grab Daryl's arm before he went to confront the teen.

" _Hey." Beth consoled, pulling her husband back to her when he made notions to get up, tucking herself into his side. "Let it go. It'll be good for both of them."_

 _Daryl tightened his grip on Beth, pulling her flush against his chest. Sometimes he wondered how she knew when to leave things alone, when to intervene; he wondered how she knew how to handle everything their only daughter threw their way._

" _You figure?" He asked anyways, because the thought of his daughter sneaking around their backs to talk to a boy grated on his every last nerve._

 _He watched as his wife thought about it for a moment. "They went through something traumatizing – it's better for them to talk about it. We both know what happens when emotions are bottled up."_

"Yeah." Sailor finally responded, nervously glancing up at her mother. She was still patting down the mulch that they would later water excessively, but it was more of a nervous tick than actually gardening right now as Beth tried to keep her own task going. "Do you remember Reggie?"

Beth stopped spreading leaves, catching her daughter's eyes that resembled Daryl's so much. "Yes, I remember."

Sailor didn't break eye contact with her Mum as she shrugged her shoulders, trying to play passive even if Beth could see just how nervous the teen was. It took another moment for Sailor to string a coherent sentence together.

"We talk on the radio, a bit." Sailor admitted, guilt spreading across her features as she looked at her Mum's knowing side glance, embarrassed that she hadn't been as sneaky as she thought she was being this whole time. "H-He.."

Her daughter trailed off, and when Beth glanced back up at her, there were tears in her eyes. She didn't hesitate to move closer to her daughter, who was beginning to silently break down. Both their hands were covered in dirt, but no mind was paid to their gardening clothes as they embraced.

"Shh, honey. What's wrong?"

"They're assigning him to the mission's crew." She breathed, a strangled laugh escaping her as she angrily wiped at the tears that dripped down her cheeks. "Mum, he hasn't been out there a day in his life!"

And even though her heart jumped to her throat at the thought of her daughter talking to and seeing a boy, she had to push away her own anxieties for the time being.

"Honey, calm down." Beth consoled, rubbing Sailor's back. Around her daughters shoulder, she could see where Daryl was patching the lobster pot, and her eyes locked with his. Just one look gave her the courage to look back at their daughter. "Let's get washed up, and put a pot of tea on. Then we'll start from the beginning."

Sailor looked eternally grateful. "Okay, Mum."

…

When they were washed, redressed and had cups of mint tea in front of them, Beth looked across the table to her daughter that was staring intently into her cup.

"Want to explain?" Beth prompted, nudging Daryl who sat beside her to look less intimidating, and he did slouch back but she could still tell that he was tensed and ready. His arms were crossed across his chest, and his eyes were narrowed.

"I don't know how to start." Sailor admitted, glancing quickly between her parents before she was intently staring back at her cup. But she took a deep breath, and continued. "I met Reggie _that_ night. He was there, and he didn't go out either."

In which Beth would be forever grateful, that Sailor was still here while so many her age weren't.

"He just looked so _sad_ that day, when he said how he'd been bullied; how he felt like an outcast." Sailor's deep blue eyes darting back and forth between her parents. "I had to be his friend, even if I'm miles away."

Sometimes, Beth wondered if time had gotten away from them, and their daughter was a lot older than she really was. How even though she grew up on the isolated island, her love for people was true and real.

Sailor looked sheepishly towards Daryl as she admitted using the VHS to call Reggie after she thought her parents were asleep, and he watched his daughter wring her hands – her nervous tick – as her roundabout story ended just where he had been expecting it would.

"Could we maybe ask Reggie to come to the island?" She asked, eyes hopeful and far too innocent for her own good.

 **TBC**

 **Thoughts?**


	32. Epilogue Part 7

**Author's Note: I have so many exciting things going on in my life right now, and yet I still can't end this.**

 **Epilogue**

 **Part Seven**

"Hi, Hunny!" Beth exclaimed as they pulled into the gates of Hilltop, the solid wood closing behind them as she stood from the car, embracing her nephew soundly.

"Hey Aunt Beth." Junior replied, squeezing the small woman in his arms. It was clear to see that Junior had grown significantly over the years, and every time Beth and Daryl set eyes on him, it was like looking into the past. He resembled his father immensely, more and more every day. "Hey Uncle Daryl."

Daryl embraced the boy as well, before Sailor threw open the back door and jumped for her cousin.

"Hey Pip!" He replied, swinging the slight teen around his growing arms, affectionately sticking to the pipsqueak nickname that he had given her when she was just a baby. "How you doing?"

Sailor and Junior instantly fell into conversation, like they usually did, and Beth had to fight for the two cousins to hear her. "Is Maggie at home, or the office?"

"Mom's at Alexandria." Junior declared, his chest puffing at the mention of the scenario. "I'm in charge of missions and arrivals until she gets back."

…

"I think my Mom is happy." Reggie confided in her, in the backseat of her parents' Volkswagen that was carrying them back to the island. Her Dad swerved to avoid the odd walker, but things were quiet otherwise. "She cried for hours when I was assigned."

Sailor looked at him thoughtfully. He had dark hair and liquid brown eyes, his tanned arms showed her that he had seen hard work in his lifetime, and that thought alone was comforting to her for a reason she couldn't comprehend. "I'm glad you're coming. I'm behind on leave shredding."

And Beth tried not to spy on the exchange through the rearview mirror, but couldn't help smiling to herself.

"Leave shredding?" Reggie asked incuriously, his dark eyebrows raising a notch as he took in the girl beside him. She was practically radiating sunshine, and he had never met someone who had been so kind to him, before.

"For the garden mulch." Sailor replied as if it was the most natural thing in the world, and Beth certainly didn't miss the look Reggie was giving her daughter.

It reminded her of how Daryl looked at her, back then.

…

"This is where you'll stay." Daryl stated, his voice was stern but not mean, as he lead the quiet boy up the tower stairs to his daughter's room. They'd decided that Sailor would bunk on the couch while Reggie stayed, and Sailor was more than happy to give up her room for her friend. "Wouldn't touch the shells if I were you."

Reggie glanced at Sailor's father, extremely intimidated by the gruff man's rough exterior. He couldn't fully understand how Sailor and Mrs. Dixon were so bright, blonde and cheery, while Mr. Dixon looked like he could swallow nails without flinching.

Then, as Mr. Dixon stepped aside, he took in the whole of the room. It was circular, white and blue with so many shells his eyes bulged. "Wow."

"Hey!" Sailor breathed, as she hit the top of the landing to her room, smiling widely at both Reggie and her father as she turned behind her, scooping up the feline that followed behind. And Daryl didn't miss when his daughter bit her lip as she took in Reggie glancing around her room with awestruck eyes. "Is this okay?"

Reggie's smile was slow as he nodded his head in agreement before picking up a framed Polaroid of her and her parents. Sailor and Daryl watched as the boy glanced at their photo, before gently placing it back where he found it.

And when he looked up at Sailor, Daryl knew he was in for it.

…

"Here." Beth beckoned as she passed over plates, mugs, knives and forks to Sailor, who handed them off to Reggie as they began to set the table. She'd been trying to keep herself busy with food preparation as Sailor showed the boy around the island, his brown irises huge with wonderment.

"My Mum makes the best lobster rolls." She overheard Sailor whisper to Reggie, who gave her a smirk back.

"The ones she brings to Hilltop? My parents always save up for them." He admitted, placing the forks and knives on the correct side of the table, with a little coaching from Sailor who without knowing, was giving an etiquette class.

"Well, when they're fresh out of the oven they're even better!" Sailor gushed, and even though Beth pretended that she didn't hear a word, her heart swelled as she pulled two giant sheet pans out of the oven that they used to collect salt, full of lobster rolls.

Daryl was puttering around watering the herb plants, sweeping the floor and collecting the dried salt. Both of them went around doing their normal chores, and the only thing that was different was the extra body at the dinner table.

When Grace was given, and they picked up their utensils, Beth smiled fondly at Reggie. "So, Reggie. Why don't you tell us a little bit about yourself?"

Reggie swallowed the helpful of lobster roll he had shoved in his mouth before he began. "Well, my parents are Mary and Tom Sawyer, and they've lived at Hilltop from the beginning. My Dad is the manager of the wall, and my Mom helps run the daycare."

Sailor beamed over at Reggie, who looked uncomfortable to be talking about himself.

"From the beginning?" Beth prompted, her curiosity growing as did her husbands, who paused mid forkful. "So they must know Maggie well?"

Reggie nodded. "Yes, Ma'am. Mrs. Rhee and my father are good friends – she asked him specifically to run the wall."

Sailor's smile was beginning to fade as her eyes darted to her parents; she was well aware that her parents had gone through what was now documented as the end of the world. Her parents rarely spoke about those times, before she was born, and the only evidence of those times was the sling her Mum sometimes wore on her arm before a rainstorm.

She wasn't used to seeing her Mum's lively eyes flash with a darkness she would never understand, and she stored that information away in her head. She was old enough now – her Mum was her best friend. Maybe someday she would ask just what had happened out there.

After both her parents noticeably came back to the present, her Mum regained her composure first. "Well then, let's finish this dinner before it gets cold."

Reggie wasn't sure what he had said wrong.

…

"Really?" Reggie asked, astonished that Sailor's mother had come from the beginning – the tiny woman who was so dainty and beautiful. He couldn't imagine Mrs. Dixon going through the stories he had overheard from his parents, and the survivors around the community growing up. The unending herds of fresh walkers, the fall of humanity – the constant and steady fear that paralyzed the remaining society.

Sailor nodded, enjoying the feel of the cool ocean water on her toes as the tide came back and forth, their footprints being erased only moments after they printed them. "My Mum was younger than us when it happened. Can you imagine?"

The young Dixon often pictured her parents' romance through the end of the world – how they met, how they fell in love; how they ticked. Her parents were very tightlipped when it came to their own privacy, and neither spoke of the past at all.

Her Mum always sighed when she would curiously ask questions, a brief flash of something crossing her face that Sailor never understood. Then her Mum would force herself to smile, and tell her that the end of the world had brought her Daddy; that she was thankful for the way things had turned out.

But that didn't curb Sailor's interest in the before world – maybe it made it grow further.

"There's always that fear, you know." Reggie admitted, shrugging his shoulders at her blank stare, shoving his hands in his khaki pockets. "That the walls will fall, the walkers would get in; someone bad will trump the leaders..."

He trailed off, shrugging again, and Sailor frowned. "It's not like that here. I get it, but not really."

Reggie's small smile was hard to see in the darkness of the night, but Sailor could feel the corners of her own smile lifting on their own accord.

"I'm glad." He told her, continuing their walk around the islands perimeter.

…

Beth and Daryl had excused them after dinner, and when the kids had left the kitchen and the door was shut firmly behind them, Beth collapsed into Daryl's open arms.

"Do you think we made the right decision to let him come?" She asked, before shoving her face into the contours of her husband's warm chest. And she felt herself calm just the slightest fraction, when his hand rubbed soothing circles on the small of her back. "Our little girl isn't so little anymore."

Daryl snorted at that, not in any way ready to admit that his eighteen year old daughter wasn't his baby anymore – not ready to think that anything going on between the two kids was more than friendship. Yet. "Think the kid knows better."

"Reggie? Yeah, he seems like a nice boy. But I'm going to give Maggie a call and get the scoop." She sheepishly shrugged at Daryl's smirk. "I want to know why he would be put on the missions' crew with no experience."

And even though her husband tried to busy himself with the bolts he was newly fletching at the dinner table, she knew that he was intently listening to the conversation she was having with her sister.

"His father specifically asked the assigning committee to put him on the mission's crew." Maggie informed them, disbelieve in her tone as the static once again came over the handheld radio. "I thought that's what he wanted. Did he say something to you?"

Daryl stood from the table at that, and Beth only glanced knowingly at him as he made his way towards her while she replied to her sister. "No, he hasn't. But Sailor was pretty upset that he was put on the crew without training."

It was silent for a moment, and Daryl sat beside Beth on the couch as they waited.

"Tom told me he was training Reggie." There was a break in the line, and when Maggie came back, her voice was quiet. "I would never do that on purpose Bethy, you know that."

And the Greene sisters had been through a lot, but one thing they had always believed in, back to the farm era, was family. "I know, Maggie. That's why I wanted to call. Junior told me you were at Alexandria, when we went to get Reggie. I'm sorry I didn't call ahead."

"I have to go, Beth, but I am going to talk to Tom about training him before anything." Maggie declared, the static becoming so predominant it was hard to hear.

"Wait." Daryl interrupted their goodbyes, easily taking the radio from Beth's hand, noticing a smile blossoming on his wife's face as if she already knew what he was about to say. "Don't need to ask him, I'll do it."

And maybe Maggie knew more than she was letting on, because she didn't argue. "Thanks Daryl."

…

Sailor was picking up shells as they walked around the island again, even though her Dad had told her time and time again that she was going to make the tower collapse with all her treasures. Whenever a new one washed up, she would try to imagine just where it had been and what it had seen.

It had been comfortably silent for so long, that Reggie's voice was rough as he spoke. "Sundown. My Dad's probably just finding out I left – I'm going to pay for it."

She'd seen the scars on her Dad's back before, and although they never had a conversation about the man her father refused to bring up, her Mum had once told her that he was a cruel man. That he didn't treat her Daddy or his brother very well at all.

Sailor froze, and Reggie was suddenly concentrated on the shells she had asked him to carry.

"I mean –" He tried to backpedal, but it was too late. Sailor had already heard and understood fully what he had meant, and he shrugged his shoulders and fixated on the sand at his feet.

"I'm sorry." Sailor told him, and she was. "You didn't have to come."

For a moment, Reggie was paralyzed at the fact that he had just let his darkest secret slip to the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. He had just openly complained about being in the only place where he could say he had a friend, for the first time in his life. Why couldn't he have just shut up and carried her shells for her?

"No." He responded when he finally found the tongue that seemed to be tied in a million knots whenever he was around the blonde who could light up any room. "I wanted to. My Mom wanted me to – she would've begged me to go regardless."

"Because of missions?" Sailor asked, clutching a razor clam shell to her chest in anticipation of his response. They hadn't spoke of his job assignment since he had initially told her over the radio, where tears had silently streamed down her face while she was tucked away in the tower late at night. When she had decided that she was going to do whatever it took for her parents to agree to him spending the summer months on the island.

"Mostly." Reggie agreed, glancing at her if she alone held the moon and sun.

And Sailor couldn't ever remember leaving a shell behind before, but she didn't think twice as she dropped the forgotten object, easily taking his much larger hand as they slowly continued their walk. "I'm glad you came."

 **TBC**

 **Thoughts?**


	33. Epilogue Part 8

**Author's Note: I see there is a lack of interest, and I apologize as the updates haven't been coming as regularly as I would've liked. I will wrap this one up soon.**

 **Epilogue**

 **Part Eight**

Beth was up and at the stove before anyone else in the house had even stirred. She had started the fire in the Home Comfort stove, and collected a bucket of water from the bails they had outside.

Over the years they had collected the four large bails that Daryl had found at some farm with Junior and a group of men from Hilltop, and successfully brought four of the six over to the island. Two were sitting at the bottom of the ocean, but four was plenty. After that Daryl had almost drove himself crazy until they had water spouts on each side of the little lighthouse, with spouts that ended in the bails to collect run off. Now they had plenty of water for their crops, didn't have to boil down seawater daily, and definitely didn't have to fill their tub during the summer anymore.

Daryl had only rolled back over as she left the confines of their bed, and Sailor was still not moving from where she could see her on the couch. Reggie hadn't made an appearance from the tower yet, and she took her time in preparing breakfast, Smokey keeping her company as he stretched and left her sleeping daughter.

She boiled two jars of potatoes, mashing them with a little of the butter she had left over from her sisters adamant stockpiling, and made little patties covered in her own wheat flour. They sizzled as they hit the oiled pan, but there was still no movement from anywhere in the house.

Then she moved on to the pancakes that she knew would be muchly appreciated by her daughter. She usually only went through the hassle of making the perfect consistency pancake batter for special occasions, and she only made enough for four large pancakes.

She was just reaching for the wild strawberry jam she had stored in the top cabinet when hesitant footfalls caught her attention.

Upon seeing Reggie with sleepy eyes and mussed hair enter the kitchen, she smiled. "Morning Reggie. Daryl and Sailor are still sleeping, but we'll start breakfast."

He nodded, quietly moving to reach the jar of jam she had been stretching for, before cautiously sitting down at the table. Beth smiled her thanks at him, flipping the last pancake over, putting two of them on the warm stovetop until her sleepyheads decided to wake for the day.

It had taken Daryl years to feel comfortable enough to stay in bed passed dawn. They had gotten in millions of bickers over the years about his sleeping schedule, and when Sailor was in her teens, he finally allowed himself to get the much needed sleep he had been depriving himself of before the apocalypse even happened.

When Beth placed Reggie's plate of potato and pancakes down in front of him, he looked up at her uncomfortably. "Thank you Mrs. Dixon. You don't have to wait on me, and I will do anything you want me to around the place."

Beth genuinely smiled at the boy. "Call me Beth, and food is my job. We all have jobs to do here, and you will be given some, by either of us or Sailor for sure."

He smiled back at her, and the blush of gratitude that spread across his face didn't go unnoticed. And when she sat, she offered her hand to him and said Grace. Thinking that they could break the rules for just one day, and they ate while the other two slept.

…

When Sailor and Daryl finished their own breakfast together at the table, they joined Beth who was showing Reggie the beginnings of the garden, and how things operated around here. She could tell by the expansion of his eyes and the concentration on his face, that he was actually absorbing her information and taking everything in.

"Shouldn'ta let us sleep in like that." Daryl ruffed, but his voice didn't match his actions as he kissed his wife's forehead as she stood from the garden. "Got too much t'do."

Beth shrugged as she wiped her hands on her gardening jeans, making a note to grab her gloves before she really got into it, remembering the hassle of cleaning her fingernails at the end of last year when she forwent them. "Everyone needed a good sleep, no harm done."

Daryl squeezed her arm lovingly and then he was looking at Reggie, who was listening to Sailor as she showed him the tiny tomato sprigs that were specifically her doings. Beth usually let their daughter pick one thing she'd like to take care of all season, and this year she was on a big kick about spaghetti – thanks to Maggie providing them with a whole crate of the dried pasta.

"A'right, you ready kid?" Daryl asked, stalking closer to them as they both stood at his words, Sailor with a bright smile and Reggie with a hunched look of worry in front of the large man. "Got lots'a work t'do."

At Sailors smile of encouragement, Reggie nodded at Daryl who beckoned the boy to the dory, and together they had the thing in the water in minutes.

It wasn't until they hit the dock on the opposite side of the water, both of them glancing back at the two slight figures that were now hunched over the garden, did Daryl relay the message to the young boy who was noticeably growing more and more uncomfortable. "Trainin' starts today."

Reggie's face immediately drained of color, and Daryl felt his back heat.

"I ain't your ol'man." Daryl informed, addressing the fear that was so easily noticeable to him; he used to be this kid standing in front of him. He used to be the kid that would try to hide his fear behind the stony expressions and the bad attitude. As he stood here and looked at Reggie, he could see his teen year's montage right before him. "Gonna take it one step at a time."

Reggie nodded, and Daryl felt himself relax a fraction.

…

"Why did Daddy take Reggie across?" Sailor curiously asked, pulling out dandelion after dandelion – those things seemed to sprout overnight, taking away water and nutrients from their crops. Her mother was behind her, added drops of sugar water to their little seedlings. "Is there big game?"

"Your father made it his mission to train Reggie this summer." Beth informed, catching a worried glance from Sailor who pulled the next weed with a little more vigor.

"I thought you said he'd help out in the garden." And Beth could see when her daughters face scrunched in disapproval, her look towards her mother not only peeved, but hurt as well.

Beth sighed, leaning back on her knees as she took in her daughter. Maybe the parents should have had a conversation with the growing teen before they forewent previous agreements; they'd thought they were doing something good. "It's either your father trains him, or he goes back to Hilltop in the Fall with no experience."

Sailor sighed, ripping another dandelion out with more than the required strength. "I could've at least warned him. He was already feeling guilty for being here."

Beth made sure she dropped a few more sugar droplets onto her budding potato plants, before she dared herself to ask. "Why would he feel guilty?"

When Sailor glanced back at her mother, it was jaded. As if she didn't fully trust Beth with the information she withheld, and that thought scared the older Dixon, much more than she would ever admit.

"Maybe, if he still wants to stay when he gets back, you can ask him." Sailor replied, ripping the last dandelion out of the ground before she was standing, making her way to the lighthouse where Beth then heard the tower door shut behind her.

Beth closed her eyes for a moment, willing herself to trust her husband and his teaching skills. Reggie would be fine.

…

"Y'hear that?" Daryl whispered to Reggie, who was wielding the pitchfork that he had presented to him before they had really gone into the woods. Gun ammo had been gone for years, his bolts took way too long to make for just anyone to practice on it, so that left them with the alternative.

They had collected quite a few weapons over the years, including the pitchfork, and Daryl had decided that it would be the perfect learning tool before they moved on to more accurate weapons. At least while wielding the pitchfork, the boy could wildly swing without getting too close.

"No." Reggie informed, his eyes growing a size larger as he whipped his head in every direction.

"Stop." Daryl halted, putting a firm hand on the boy's shoulders as he began to panic slightly, his heartbeat racing under his ribcage. "N'listen."

It was eerily quiet for a moment as the two men stopped their movements, trying to contain their breathing as best they could, after walking around in the foliage for the better half of the morning. Daryl had just been leading them back towards the coast when he had heard the telltale shuffling of a long turned walker.

And they only had to wait a moment until the ugly thing was gnawing its way towards them, and Daryl immediately caught when Reggie's breath hitched and his joints became frozen.

Reggie was still frozen in place as the walker fell, the whizzing of the bolt that was released making a deep _thunk_ as it hit its target, and the sound only made Reggie feel sick as he dropped the pitchfork he was sure he'd never be able to use regardless.

"Rule one." Daryl drawled as he pulled the bolt from the walkers head, wiping the black blood on the rag that hung from his back pocket. He glanced at Reggie thoughtfully for a second, allowing the boy to regain his composure as he searched the walker briefly for anything useful. "Eyes and ears open."

Reggie only nodded, thankful that Mr. Dixon strode away as he focused on breathing.

…

It was nearing on sundown, and Daryl knew that by the time they reached the island that dinner would be simmering on the stove, waiting for their return. He'd told her more than once before that he never expected it, but Beth would always shrug her shoulder and tell him she was more than happy to have dinner ready.

The kid had recovered well from the walker shock, and when they finally reached the dock he carefully patted Reggie's back. "First time is the hardest. Next day will be easier."

And the kid actually looked like he was trying his hardest to keep his face strong, but he didn't miss the glances he threw over his back every couple of minutes. It went without saying that it was the first time that Reggie had really seen a walker, close enough to smell death. Without fences between them.

Walkers were scary, and Daryl never took for granted that his hardened approach had taken years to master – he'd had to go through some rough shit to be as handy as he was in this new world. In the beginning, he'd faced many times where he'd been cornered or scared for his life; and if no kid ever had to go through that experience again, it still wouldn't be enough for Daryl.

"Thank you." Reggie then piped up as they got situated in the dory, Daryl pushing off with his back foot as they grabbed the oars. "For everything, Mr. Dixon."

Daryl's smirk was genuine as he took in the kid before him. Well mannered, didn't shy away from hard work; he could get used to having this guy around. "It's Daryl."

…

"Oh Reggie, I'm so –" Sailor immediately cut off as the laughter coming from the approaching dory caught her ears, and she paused in the doorway of the lighthouse from where her mother was still inside, a pot of rabbit stew in the makings – one of their last meals that would need preserved items as the seasons changed and the garden grew.

She couldn't make out just what the two men were laughing about, but when she saw her Daddy pass Reggie the game bag to take into her mother while he got the dory tied, she knew everything must have gone okay.

Reggie's smile was genuine as he walked towards the lighthouse, his smile widening as he spotted her immediately. "Hey Sails."

"Hey." Sailor responded, hardly having time to throw her own arms around his middle as he pulled her in with one arm, making sure to keep the game bag a few inches away from her even if she had carried that thing for her father for years. "How'd today go?"

And when he pulled back, his liquid brown eyes were positively glowing. "Perfect."

 **TBC**

 **Thoughts?**


	34. Epilogue Part 9

**Author's Note: Holy heck I have no words. You guys are amazing.**

 **Paint the Silence**

 **Part Nine**

Weeks went on and Reggie had been practically begging Daryl to teach him everything the older man knew.

He was a sponge for knowledge, and in the months that he had been here he had learned to do so many things he'd never even taken into consideration before. Things like making mulch, tracking large and small game, dealing with walkers. Things like tending to the garden, standing in the ocean fishing with Mr. Dixon – he even let Reggie rig and throw the lobster pot yesterday.

They'd go to shore twice a week – the rest of the time being split between helping Mrs. Dixon and Sailor with the garden, and regular chores that they all partook in. Things like boiling down drinking water just to be on the safe side, collecting dried sea salt, pickling, fire starting and inventory control. The list went on and on, of the things he had learned this summer.

And Mr. Dixon had just deemed him ready that morning, because he only had a few days left before he was supposed to return to Hilltop to be assigned to the mission's crew; and he was thrown into the brick wall of reality that this wasn't his home, and he had responsibilities elsewhere.

He'd become pretty good at taking walkers down – the pitchfork a much preferred weapon to the knives they had tried out, but Reggie was now confident that he wouldn't fail on the first mission. Mr. Dixon had given him scenarios, had walked him through each walker he took down. So it was bittersweet when Mr. Dixon had slapped him on the back informing him that he was ready.

But besides all that, Reggie admittedly had a favorite daily activity that had nothing to do with surviving.

His favorite part of every day.

"I can't believe it's almost September already." Sailor admitted sadly as they made their usual three laps around the island, the summer water lapping at their feet as she occasionally bent over to collect the odd washed up shell.

The sun was just beginning to dip under the horizon, and Reggie couldn't help but notice that Sailor's blonde hair always seemed to glow in the magnificent oranges and pinks the falling sun would portray, and more than once he hadn't been able to take his eyes off her at all as she chattered away about her day.

Today though, there was a sadness behind her voice.

"Aunt Maggie always promised to spend summers here, back when Junior and I were little." She admitted, glancing up at him as he grabbed her smaller hand in his. Her smile was sad, and all he wanted to do was make her smile come back. "But time goes on and people get busy."

Reggie nodded, unsure of where this conversation was heading.

"I hope you know I'll always want your company." Sailor finally broke, tears gathering in her wide blue eyes, and although none fell, he knew that he would spend the rest of his life trying to make that look never cross her face again.

"C'mere." Reggie sighed, closing his own eyes at the feel of her head pressing into his shoulder, his hands that wrapped around her back feeling the unsteady breaths she was taking. And they never really did show this type of affection, but it felt so right he regretted not doing so more often. "I don't want anyone else's' company."

"Just don't forget us." Sailor whispered, wrapping her own arms around his torso, and Reggie couldn't have explained the feelings that soared through his body all at once, even if he had wanted to. "When you're back to civilization."

He only patted her back; if she only knew.

…

Beth petted Sailor's hair as Daryl carried Reggie off to the other side, where he'd drive him back to Hilltop in the families old Volkswagen.

"You know." Sailor whispered, tears finally making trails down her face now that they were far enough away that Reggie wouldn't be able to see. "I always knew he was going back. But why is it so hard?"

Beth gave her daughter a sad smile, wrapping an arm around her side, and she wasn't surprised when Sailor allowed Beth to pull her close. She laid a head on her mother's shoulder, watching as the dory hit the other side of the island, and Reggie only turned around to glance at her once before he was hidden within the trees.

And Beth could've told her _why_ she was so upset to see the young man go – both parents had been able to clearly see as soon as the young man had arrived on their island. Captivated and smitten with their precious girl, and Sailor hadn't been much different towards the Hilltop boy.

But she didn't say anything, glancing at her daughter knowingly as she steered her towards the table, promptly getting the kettle on the stove for some tea.

…

He'd just gotten back from his first run of many.

His father had been plenty pissed when Mr. Dixon had dropped him off, and Reggie hadn't missed the fierce look that came over Mr. Dixon when his father grabbed him by the shirttails, and pulled him inside. And Reggie felt eternally embarrassed as his father slammed the door in Daryl's face, unable to hear his light thread as he retreated off the porch.

And after shouting profanities through a closed window as Mr. Dixon drove away, it began.

Later that day when he eased himself into his bed, his lower back aching from where it had forcefully met the floor, he heard his mother creep into his room. He heard the door click shut quietly before his mother allowed herself to turn on the tiny nightlight she still kept in his room.

When she caught sight of him, tears sprung to her eyes. And he didn't protest as he allowed his mother to cradle his head in her arms, because even though his mother never stopped his father, she was there to pick up the pieces. "Oh, my Reggie."

He grimaced as he sat, and though he knew he was hurting now, he knew he'd be in even more pain tomorrow as the bruises turned purple and he had work to do.

"It's fine." He lied, like he usually did whenever his tearful Mom would creep into his room when his father had finally passed out, where she would cling to him and whisper all her regrets and apologies to him until he would fall into a fitful sleep; wondering if he'd have to walk on eggshells tomorrow morning or not.

So when he had gotten back from his first mission, and all the men were clapping him on the back with large smiles on their faces, his father stood out like a sore thumb with an indifferent scowl on his face as the others celebrated.

" _Way to go baby Sawyer! Who knew he had it in him? Walker killing machine!"_

That night, his father didn't even glance his way as he came in the door, going right to the den where he passed out with his drink. And after helping his Mom get the slobbering man into bed, he took the VHS and he shut his bedroom door behind him.

He was high-strung, he was still coming down from the adrenaline rush the run had caused, and his muscles were beginning to ache. He'd been up close and personal with so many walkers today he'd lost count– when they had made the split decision to check out the old K-mart, they had been so close to losing everything over two packages of seeds.

It all seemed so trivial to him.

"Hello?"

"Hi Mrs. Dixon." He whispered, knowing that his father was passed out cold and his mother would be tucked in beside him, yet whispering in this house would always seem like a necessity.

"Reggie?" A much wobblier voice came through, and Reggie couldn't explain the immediate comfort that washed over him like a tide at the lighthouse.

"Sails."

…

When Sailor ran up the tower stairs with the VHS, Beth and Daryl both slumped back on the couch with utmost relief.

"Don't like it." Daryl shook his head, and Beth watched on as his thumb automatically went to his lips – a habit that it seemed he would never break. And she watched him stare out the little living room window at the shore until she couldn't take it anymore.

"Reggie being on missions?" Beth asked, pulling Daryl's hand away from his mouth. She remembered a time when he had no skin left on his thumb, when Sailor was just a newborn. "I don't either."

"Nah." Daryl dismissed her, standing and beginning to pace. He tried to make it look like he was doing chores; yet they both knew that it was bedtime and there was nothing left to be done around their lighthouse.

And it was quiet for a while as Beth picked her book back up, unable to move passed the one sentence she had read a millions times over, feeling the anxiety that was rolling off her husband in waves. Thinking about Reggie on the mission's crew, and how she had to give up her own teenage years for the apocalypse.

It was quiet for so long she jumped when Daryl spoke.

"I'm goin' to get him tomorrow."

Beth smiled.

…

"Sailor!" Daryl called up the tower to their daughter, who had been sulking since the end of the summer, worry present on her face every day until the young boy would give her a call in the evenings.

It was early, and when the eighteen year old came to a halt at the landing, her eyes were still drowsy with sleep. In the fall they slept in, making up for the sleep they'd lost over the spring and summer. Except Daryl – where he had gotten better at sleeping in, he was usually still the first one up at the lighthouse.

And Reggie would usually be up only minutes after he was, and he never thought he'd ever _miss_ some guy that was pursuing his daughter – but he did. He missed the kid and how happy Sailor had been while he was around. He missed the way his wife's eyes lit up as he would sit at the dinner table, bragging about how it was the best food he had ever eaten, making Beth blush. He missed the hunting and tracking companion that Reggie had become.

He missed the kid dammit, and if he wanted to, he could stay full time. God knows they could use another set of hands around here.

"What's going on?" Sailor asked, sudden worry in her young face.

…

"Daddy?" Sailor asked, an hour into the two that it took to reach Hilltop.

And no matter how old she was, or how long ago it had been since he had asked Beth to marry him, it never did ring true that he was a _Dad_ and this beautiful creature was half of him.

That she looked up to him for answers; for real life problems.

"Yeah?"

Sailor looked sullen for a moment as Daryl easily swerved to avoid a walker that was mindlessly standing in the middle of the interstate, her cheeks blushing as she looked back at her father. "When did you know you were in love with Mum?"

And the parents had decided that they would never speak of their journey of the apocalypse to their daughter – when she had been just a tiny baby. They had decided that even though their daughter would grow up in this dead world, they wanted her innocence to last for as long as it could.

They didn't want her to know how her mother had narrowly escaped whatever fate the car with the white cross had planned, didn't want her to know how many people her father had to overrun in order for them to have the lives they did. Didn't want her to feel the pain that still clutched their throats in the darkest dreams that had been reality.

And hell, Daryl floundered like a fish out of water for a long moment before he sighed. "Was a long time ago. Maybe I always knew."

He didn't miss Sailor's giddy smile.

 **TBC**

 **Next chapter will be the last. Thoughts?**


	35. Epilogue Part 10

**Author's Note: Life got in the way of finishing this, but Paint the Silence has finally come to an end. A million thanks to everyone who read and reviewed. On to the next one!**

 **Paint the Silence**

 **Part Ten**

They didn't talk about the blow up that had happened at Hilltop when Daryl Dixon shoved Tom Sawyer into the ground, telling him to pick on someone his own size. They didn't talk about how Daryl's fist had been raised to knock on the Sawyer's front door just as Tom had been making his way out, a battered Reggie lying in the middle of the living room to match his father's knuckles.

Didn't talk about when he beat the man unconscious.

They didn't talk about how Maggie had taken Tom, threw him in the cellar for the next thirty days until the committee could decide what his punishment would be. Didn't talk about how Reggie's mother Mary had clung to Daryl, begging him to take her son away to live a normal life.

Because all of it was in the past, and life went on. Life didn't wait – for anyone or anything. Reggie returned to the island like nothing at all had happened, and life went on.

They fell into their regular routines – mornings were for steaming cups of tea and evenings were for full bellies and long walks. And in between there was always hard work to be done, that none of them ever shied away from.

It was the morning of Sailor's nineteenth, and the whole kitchen was uprooted as Beth prepared for the celebration. They didn't celebrate Christmas, or Easter and most times wild turkeys never came on what would've been Thanksgiving – but they celebrated birthdays. They always made sure that Sailor had one day a year.

And amongst all the food that Beth had been planning for their family that always showed up on Sailor's birthday, she had pancakes in the cast iron pan with fresh wild strawberries and their jam. It had become a tradition long ago, and Beth had no plans of foregoing them now that her daughter was nineteen.

Daryl and Reggie were outside in the water, washing dishes, clothes and pulling up the trap. They were up even earlier than they usually were, and though Beth didn't comment, there was a sort of electricity running through the air that she sensed as soon as her eyes opened.

…

Reggie was nervous as hell.

He'd lived here for a little over a year now, not including the first summer he had worked here, and he had thought that Mr. Dixon and he were on a pretty routine schedule. They got along, they did their respective chores, and sometimes they even goofed off together when Mrs. Dixon and Sailor weren't looking.

Yet the man was still washing plates quietly in the ocean, as if he hadn't even heard what Reggie had just said.

The sweat began to drip down Reggie's neck, even though the water was frigid this time of year and the early morning breeze was still cool. Things had been going great, for Sailor and him. They continued their evening walks, and genuinely enjoyed the time they were lucky enough to have now that he lived here full time as a 'farmhand', as Mrs. Dixon called it. Even though that didn't really make sense to either of the young adults.

He had refused to take Sailor's room this time, however, and made his bed on the couch. Not that it bothered him; he was up whenever Mr. Dixon was and he knew that Sailor loved to push the limits of how long she could sleep in. Most mornings Mrs. Dixon would send him up the stairs to wake her up, and those few moments were moments he treasured.

 _He climbed the stairs for the first time since he had come back, Mrs. Dixon's instructions to wake Sailor up on his mind._

 _He'd only been here for a week, but in the off season he could feel the difference already. It was much more relaxed this time of year, with the panty full and the seeds for next year's crop safely stored. Mrs. Dixon and Sailor liked to sleep in until the sun was fully up, but Sailor was evidently not a morning person._

 _Smokey, the cat that was practically ancient opened his eyes as he hit the landing of the tower, and Reggie couldn't help himself when he scratched the aging feline's ears. His eyes were blurry and his already grey fur had lost its shine, but that old cat was Sailor's baby._

 _He sat himself on the edge of the bed, and he had never witnessed Sailor sleeping before. Her white blonde hair was scattered all around her pillows, the heavy covers pulled right up to her nose. The cat was pushed against her thighs, and she had curled around the feline in her sleep._

 _She was the most adorable thing Reggie had ever laid eyes on._

 _Her bleary eyes opened as his hand tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear on their own accord, and her blue iris' took a moment to adjust before her face bloomed into a smile, covering his hand that he'd kept comfortably on her face._

" _Morning." She sighed, a yawn breaking her smile as she petted Smokey's head; and it was obvious to him that he was interrupted her morning routine, but she also seemed so happy to see him that he didn't let his insecurities ruin the moment._

" _Morning. Your folks sent me up to wake you."_

 _Sailor only yawned again, patting the space behind her and moved her face to rest on the body of the purring cat. "Just a few more minutes."_

 _And he didn't argue._

"I guess." Daryl finally replied, glancing at the younger boy was still wringing out the clothes he passed him. He had been thrown off guard at the conversation, and he still didn't know how he felt about any of this.

Reggie looked at him, confused. And it was so obvious that the young man had gotten comfortable around Daryl; they did everything together. But Daryl could tell there was an underlying nervousness in Reggie. "No offense, Mr. Dixon, but I was expecting more of a fight."

And even Daryl had to chuckle at that, shaking his head as he continued to wash clothes with the bar of soap. Anything to keep his hands busy.

"Yeah, me too kid."

…

" _What?"_

" _I-I mean-" Reggie babbled, trying desperately to take back the words he had all but fell out of his mouth. Here was this beautiful girl, who he hardly deserved to be in the presence of, let alone in company of. And he had just gone and ruined it._

 _He gulped, and floundered._

 _Her hand flew to her chest, and her eyes grew as wide a saucers._

 _They'd been enjoying their usual evening walk around the island, the air so cold that they had to keep their boots on in the freezing sand, and they could see the haze their breath created. They had been holding hands, and he had be unable to contain himself as the words tumbled from his mouth unexpectedly._

 _It was the blonde curls, her Cleopatra eyes – it was the warmth her hand provided to his._

 _Her. It was everything about her._

" _What?" She croaked again, unshed tears springing to her eyes as he watched on, every muscle in his body frozen as everything unfolded in slow motion. The only sound he could hear was the crashing of the waves and the thumping of his heart._

 _Reggie barely had the reaction time to catch the tiny woman as she wrapped her arms around his neck, her feet hooking together at his back._

 _She whispered into the side of his neck in a watery voice. "I love you, too."_

...

They'd had their overflowing breakfast of pancakes and wild strawberry jam, and all bellies were full for another morning – a blessing that Beth never let anyone forget.

She was picking up plates off the dinner table as Sailor and Reggie both stood after their thanks, grabbing their gardening gloves on the way out the door. It was time to make mulch, and the pair had basically taken over the care of the garden this season. And Beth let them. They always had plenty of questions to keep her entertained, and her arm was starting to protest more and more these days.

Daryl was sitting quietly, a splinter of wood he kept for a toothpick stuck between his teeth, and Beth could easily see that her husband was miles away. However, her suspicions grew even further as he jumped when she placed a hand on his shoulder.

"What's wrong?" She asked, tucking a stray wisp of hair behind his ear as she sat down at the table, eye level. Even after all these years, and her countless attempts at getting him to cut it short, he preferred to keep his hair long.

Daryl glanced towards the closed door, before peeking out the window at the young adults that were now elbow deep in the soil. When he looked back at his wife, Beth could instantly feel the electricity that she had felt that morning.

"He asked to marry her."

Beth's heart fluttered, a hand going instinctively to her chest. "Oh my God."

…

"I still remember the day you arrived." Maggie sighed, handing over the gift to Sailor as she petted the blondes' curls.

Dinner was over and everyone was lazing around the expansion of the tiny lighthouse, people sitting at the table, on the couch and on the floors. All holding their stomachs in comfortable fullness, remembering a time when their bellies would still be growling after all their food was distributed – a time when dog food had been the only thing available.

Rick, Michonne, Carl and Judith were here, Carl with a brown haired girl that Beth had seen around Alexandria before. And Judith was a nurse at Alexandria now, and that thought alone made Beth feel ancient.

Maggie and Junior were the first to arrive as per usual, and Carol had brought a large chocolate cake even though each year they told her to not go through the fuss.

All their original family was here – the ones that they hadn't lost along the way. And even though they would never be able to replace the faces that had once all sat together, they had added new faces to their group. People like Denise, Reggie and Rosita – who was Maggie's best friend.

Beth laughed at that, sharing a knowing glace with her sister. "Yeah, me too. Vividly."

All adults in the room gave a chuckle at that, as they watched the newly nineteen year old open the few gifts that sat on the cleared dining table.

"Wow." Sailor breathed as she opened the package, and Maggie watched both Sailor and Beth as the young woman pulled the wooden box from the box.

It was Beth's sharp intake of air, when Maggie knew she recognized it.

"It took a long time to even think about it." Maggie began to explain, as the brunette pulled both her sister and niece into an embrace as Sailor's eyes went between the box and her mother whose eyes were beginning to overflow on their own accord. "To go back there, the farm. I had to get a crew to go in – I knew I couldn't go in after all these years."

"Mum?" Sailor asked, who was now staring wordlessly at the box, knuckles white as she grabbed the hand her Dad put on her shoulder. The adults in the room – the ones who Sailor knew had been together from the beginning, became eerily quiet as she threw a glance at Reggie.

He looked just as confused as she felt, though when he nodded his head, she further investigated the wooden box.

It was beautiful – with delicate flower carvings, so intricate that Sailor wasn't exactly sure how it was humanly possible to achieve. There were painted pink and white flowers, and as she opened it there was pink velvet on the inside. A tiny woman figurine popped up as she opened the box, the woman with a tiny pink suit and white tights.

What was this?

"Thanks, Aunt Maggie." Sailor said, unsure of what was really unfolding around her. She loved the box; it was beautiful. And she could picture putting a few of her special shells in there, and keeping it safely tucked away in her tower room. "I love it."

Beth laughed, making quick work of wiping her eyes. There was no need to cry today – it was Sailor's day, and she was beyond thankful that her daughter had been given this small piece of her past. She gave Sailor an encouraging smile, because even though her daughter was being polite, Beth knew that she didn't have a clue as to what a jewelry box was. "Go on, look on the bottom."

Sailor eyed her mother curiously before doing as instructed, carefully closing the box again before turning it over in her hands. And written on the very back, in childlike scrawl was a _"Bethany Greene"_.

"Oh my God, Mum!"

And Daryl caught the chair that would've toppled backwards as Sailor embraced Beth.

…

The lighthouse felt oddly empty as they laid in bed, the fire dying in the stove and the temperature becoming bearable again.

"I never expected that today." Beth admitted, folding herself comfortably in the arm that her husband opened for her, throwing the thin sheet over the pair of them. "Never thought I'd see that box Daddy got me again, either."

Daryl hummed, staring at the ceiling as his wife squirmed to get situated like she did almost every night. Gone were the days that she worried about his anger that was practically nonexistent these days, not that she hadn't always call him on his shit.

"Maggie likes her emotional crap." Daryl said, only to gain a halfhearted whack from Beth, whose giggles made him crack a smile as well. "Nah, its good she got somethin'a yours."

It was quiet for a moment as both of them thought of a time where a jewelry box had been relevant. They thought about who they had been, and what they had to go through to become the people that they were today. All the fights they had to win in order to survive – all the running and scavenging they did.

All the pain, blood, sweat and tears.

"I love you." Beth whispered into the sheets, where her head was buried in the confines of Daryl's chest. And he had to admit, that even after all these years, he still couldn't quite believe it when she spoke those words so sincerely to him.

"Love ya too, Greene."

…

"It's so weird to think that my parents had lives in the old world." Sailor shrugged, glancing at a thoughtful looking Reggie for a moment before continuing her out loud thought process. "That Mum was only sixteen when it happened, and she and Daddy didn't even know each other."

Reggie nodded his agreement.

"And I'm really thankful," Sailor continued, swinging their connected hands on their walk around the island. "But I wish Mum hadn't been so upset."

"I think she was happy," Reggie replied to that, stopping their walk so he could face her, smoothing out the troubled lines on her forehead with his thumb. "And maybe a little surprised."

"Yeah." Sailor agreed, closing her eyes at the feel of his thumb. And once again, she was astonished at just how calming this man was. How he knew what she needed even before she did, sometimes, and how a simple touch could calm the worst of storms.

Although when she opened her eyes, she looked around for a second. It took her a full moment to realize that Reggie was kneeling in front of her, the moon the only source of light as his hands fumbled in his shorts pocket.

"Sailor."

"Oh my God." Her eyes widened, and her hands clenched in tight fists on either side of her jeans, the breeze blowing her curls in and out of her leaking face.

And Reggie was just about to open his mouth to reveal the speech he had worked on for months, had been having heart palliations about for months over. Was just about to spill all his deepest thoughts in hopes the woman before him would agree.

But it was all in vain, as Sailor crumpled to her knees in front of him. "Yes."

Reggie's brown eyes were wide in disbelief. "Really?"

Sailor laughed between her tears, easily catching his face and pressing their lips together.

 **FIN**


End file.
